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VOL. I. 


1861. K^ 

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1861, by 


in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of 
New York. 

RIVERSIDE, Cambridge: 






"Some of the author's friends cried, 'Lookee, gentlemen, the man 
is a villain; but it is Nature for all that; ' and the young critics of the 
age, the clerks, apprentices, &;c., called it low, and fell a-groaning." — 


The greater part of this Tale was originally published 
in a magazine. When I completed it, and put it forth 
in its present form, it was objected to on some high 
moral grounds in some high moral quarters. 

It was, it seemed, a coarse and shocking circum- 
stance, that some of the characters in these pages are 
chosen from the most criminal and degraded of Lon- 
don's population ; that Sikes is a thief, and Fagin a 
receiver of stolen goods ; that the boys are pickpockets, 
and the girl is a prostitute. 

I have yet to learn that a lesson of the purest good 
may not be drawn from the vilest evil. I have always 
beheved this to be a recognized and established truth, 
laid down by the greatest men the world has ever seen, 
constantly acted upon by the best and wisest natures, 
and confirmed by the reason and experience of every 


thinking mind. I saw no reason, when I wrote this 
book, why the dregs of life, so long as their speech 
did not offend the ear, should not serve the purpose 
of a moral, at least as well as its froth and cream. 
Nor did I doubt tliat there lay festering in Saint 
Giles's as good materials towards the truth as any to 
be found in Saint James's. 

In this spirit, when I wished to show, in little Oliver, 
the principle of Good surviving through every adverse 
circumstance, and triumphing at last ; and when I con- 
sidered among what companions I could try him best, 
having regard to that kind of men into whose hand, 
he would most naturally fall; I bethought myself of 
those who figure in these volumes. When I came to 
discuss the subject more maturely with myself, I saw 
many strong reasons for pursuing the course to which 
I was inchned. I had read of thieves by scores — 
seductive fellows (amiable for the most part), faultless 
in dress, plump in pocket, choice in horseflesh, bold in 
bearing, fortunate in gallantry, great at a song, a bottle, 
pack of cards or dice-box, and fit companions for the 
bravest. But I had never met (except in Hogarth) 
with the miserable reality. It appeared to me that to 
draw a knot of such associates in crime as really do 
exist ; to paint them in all their deformity, in all their 
wretchedness, in all the squalid poverty of their lives ; 
to show them as they really are, forever skulking un- 
easily through the dirtiest paths of life, with the great, 


black, ghastly gallows closing up their prospect, turn 
them where they may ; — it appeared to rae that to do 
this would be to attempt a something which was greatly 
needed, and which would be a service to society. And 
therefore I did it as I best could. 

In every book I know, where such characters are 
treated of at all, certain allurements and fascinations 
are thrown around them. Even in the Beggar's Opera, 
the thieves are represented as leading a life which is 
rather to be envied than otherwise ; while Macheath, 
with all the captivations of command, and the devotion 
of the most beautiful girl and only pure character in 
the piece, is as much to be admired and emulated by 
weak beholders, as any iSne gentleman in a red coat 
who has purchased, as Voltaire says, the right to 
command a couple of thousand men, or so, and to af- 
front death at their head. Johnson's question, whether 
any man will turn thief because Macheath is reprieved, 
seems to me beside the matter. I ask myself, whether 
any man will be deterred from turning thief because 
of his being sentenced to death, and because of the 
existence of Peachum and Lockit; and remembering 
the captain's roaring life, great appearance, vast suc- 
cess, and strong advantages, I feel assured that nobody 
having a bent that way will take any warning from 
him, or will see anything in the play but a very flowery 
and pleasant road, conducting an honorable ambition, 
in course of time, to Tyburn Tree. 

viii PREFACE. 

In fact, Gay's witty satire on society had a general 
object, which made him careless of example in this 
respect, and gave him other aims. The same may be 
said of Sir Edward Bulwer's admirable and powerful 
novel of Paul Clifford, which cannot be fairly con- 
sidered as having, or being intended to have, any 
bearing on this part of the subject, one way or other. 

What manner of life is that which is described in 
these pages, as the every-day existence of a Thief? 
What charms has it for the young and ill-disposed, 
what allurements for the most jolter-headed of juve- 
niles? Here are no canterings on moonlit heaths, no 
merry-makings in the snuggest of all possible caverns, 
none of the attractions of dress, no embroidery, no lace, 
no jack-boots, no crimson coats and ruffles, none of the 
dash and freedom with which " the road " has been, 
time out of mind, invested. The cold, wet, shelterless 
midnight streets of London ; the foul and frowzy dens, 
where vice is closely packed and lacks the room to 
turn ; the haunts of hunger and disease, the shabby rags 
that scarcely hold together ; — where are the attractions 
of these things ? Have they no lesson, and do they 
not whisper something beyond the little-regarded warn- 
ing of an abstract moral precept ? 

But, there are people of so refined and delicate a 
nature, that they cannot bear the contemplation of these 
horrors. Not that they turn instmctively from crime ; 
but that criminal characters, to suit them, must be, hke 


their meat, in delicate disguise. A Massaroni in green 
velvet is an enchanting creature ; but a Sikes in fustian 
is insupportable. A Mrs. Massaroni, being a lady in 
short petticoats and a fancy dress, is a thing to imitate 
in tableaux and have in lithograph on pretty songs ; 
but a Nancy, being a creature in a cotton gown and 
cheap shawl, is not to be thought of. It is wonderful 
how Virtue turns from dirty stockings ; and how Vice, 
married to ribbons and a little gay attire, changes her 
name, as wedded ladies do, and becomes Romance. 

Now, as the stern and plain truth, even in the dress 
of this (in novels) much exalted race, was a part of the 
purpose of this book, I will not, for these readers, abate 
one hole in the Dodger's coat, or one scrap of curl- 
paper in the girl's dishevelled hair. I have no faith in 
the delicacy which cannot bear to look upon them. I 
have no desire to make proselytes among such people. 
I have no respect for their opinion, good or bad ; do 
not covet their approval; and do not write for their 
amusement. I venture to say this without reserve ; 
for I am not aware of any writer in our language hav- 
ing a respect for himself, or held in any respect by 
his posterity, who ever has descended to the taste of 
this fastidious class. 

On the other hand, if I look for examples, and for 
precedents, I find them in the noblest range of English 
literature. Fielding, De Foe, Goldsmith, Smollett, 
Richardson, Mackenzie, — all these, for wise purposes, 


and especially the two first, brought upon the scene the 
very scum and refuse of the land. Hogarth, the mor- 
alist and censor of his age, — in whose great works 
the times in which he lived, and the characters of every 
time, will never cease to be reflected, — did the like, 
without the compromise of a hair's breadth. Where does 
this giant stand now, in the estimation of his country- 
men ? And yet, if I turn back to the days in which 
he or any of these men flourished, I find the same re- 
proach levelled against them every one, each in his 
turn, by the insects of the hour, who raised their little 
hum, and died and were forgotten. 

Cervantes laughed Spain's chivalry away, by showing 
Spain its impossible and wild absurdity. It was my 
attempt, in my humble and far-distant sphere, to dim 
the false glitter surrounding something which really 
did exist, by showing it in its unattractive and repul- 
sive truth. No less consulting my own taste than the 
manners of the age, I endeavored, while I painted it 
in all its fallen and degraded aspect, to banish from the 
lips of the lowest character I introduced any expression 
that could by possibihty offend; and rather to lead to 
the unavoidable inference that its existence was of the 
most debased and vicious kind, than to prove it elabo- 
rately by words and deeds. In the case of the girl, 
in particular, I kept this intention constantly in view. 
Whether it is apparent in the narrative, and how it is 
executed, I leave my readers to determine. 


It has been observed of this girl, that her devotion 
to the brutal house-breaker does not seem natural, and 
it has been objected to Sikes in the same breath — with 
some inconsistency, as I venture to think — that he is 
surely overdrawn, because in him there would appear 
to be none of those redeeming traits which are objected 
to as unnatural in his mistress. Of the latter objection 
I will merely say, that I fear there are in the world 
some insensible and callous natures, that do become, at 
last, utterly and irredeemably bad. But whether this 
be so or not, of one thing I am certain : that there are 
such men as Sikes, who, being closely followed through 
the same space of time, and through the same current 
of circumstances, would not give, by one look or action 
of a moment, the faintest indication of a better nature. 
Whether every gentler human feeling is dead within 
such bosoms, or the proper chord to strike has rusted 
and is hard to find, I do not know ; but that the fact is 
so, I am sure. 

It is useless to discuss whether the conduct and char- 
acter of the gh'l seems natural or unnatural, probable 
or improbable, right or wrong. It is true. Every 
man who has watched these melancholy shades of life 
knows it to be so. Suggested to my mind long ago, by 
what I often saw and read of, in actual life around me, 
I have tracked it through many profligate and noisome 
ways, and found it still the same. From the first in- 
troduction of that poor wretch, to her laying her bloody 


head upon the robber's breast, there is not one word ex- 
aggerated or overwrought. It is emphatically God's 
truth, for it is the truth He leaves in such depraved 
and miserable breasts ; the hope yet lingering behind ; 
the last fair drop of water at the bottom of the dried- 
up, weed-choked well. It involves the best and worst 
shades of our common nature ; much of its ugliest hues, 
and something of its most beautiful ; it is a contradic- 
tion, an anomaly, an apparent impossibility, but it is a 
truth. I am glad to have had it doubted, for in that cir- 
cumstance I find a sufficient assurance that it needed 
to be told. 




Treats of the Place where Oliver Twist was Born ; and of the 
Circumstances attending his Birth 17 

Treats of Oliver Twist's Growth, Education, and Board . . 22 


Relates how Oliver Twist was very near getting a Place, which 
would not have been a Sinecure 36 


Oliver, being offered another Place, makes his first Entry into 
Public Life 48 


Oliver mingles with new Associates. Going to a Funeral for the 
first Time, he forms an unfavorable Notion of his Master's 
Business 58 


Oliver, being goaded by the Taunts of Noah, rouses into Action, 
and rather astonishes him 73 

Oliver continues refractory 80 




Oliver walks to London. He encounters on the Road a Strange 
sort of young Gentleman 89 


Containing further Particulars concerning the pleasant old Gen- 
tleman, and his hopeful Pupils 101 


Oliver becomes better acquainted with the Characters of his new 
Associates ; and purchases Experience at a high Price. Being 
a short, but very important Chapter, in this History . . 110 


Treats of Mr. Fang the Police Magistrate ; and furnishes a slight 
Specimen of his Mode of administering Justice . . . 117 


In which Oliver is taken better Care of than he ever was before. 
And in which the Narrative reverts to the merry old Gentle- 
man and his youthful Friends 127 


Some new Acquaintances are introduced to the intelligent Reader; 
connected with whom, various pleasant Matters are related, 
appertaining to this History 140 


Comprising further Particulars of Oliver's stay at Mr. Brown- 
low's, with the remarkable Prediction which one Mr. Grim- 
wig uttered concerning him, when he went out on an Errand. 151 


Showing how very fond of OUver Twist, the merry old Jew and 
Miss Nancy were 165 


Relates what became of Ohver Twist, after he had been claimed 
by Nancy 174 




Oliver's Destiny, continuing unpropitious, brings a Great Man to 
London to injure his Reputation 187 


How Oliver passed his Time in the improving Society of his 
reputable Friends 200 

In which a notable Plan is discussed and determined on . . 211 


Wherein Oliver is delivered over to Mr. William Sikes . . 224 

The Expedition 235 

The Burglary 


Which contains the Substance of a pleasant Conversation between 
Mr. Bumble and a Lady ; and shows that even a Beadle may 
be susceptible on some Points 253 


Treats of a very poor Subject. But is a short one; and may be 
found of Importance in this History 263 

Wherein this History reverts to jMr. Fagin and Company . . 271 


In which a mysterious Character appears upon the Scene; and 
many Things, inseparable from this History, are done and 
performed 280 




Atones for the unpoliteness of a former Chapter; which deserted 
a Lady, most unceremoniously 296 


Looks after Oliver, and proceeds with his Adventures . . .306 




Among other public buildings in a certain town, which 
for many reasons it will be prudent to refrain from men- 
tioning, and to which I will assign no fictitious name, 
there is one anciently common to most towns, great or 
small : to wit, a workhouse ; and in this workhouse was 
born : on a day and date which I need not trouble my- 
self to repeat, inasmuch as it can be of no possible con- 
sequence to the reader, in this stage of the business at 
all events : the item of mortality whose name is prefixed 
to the head of this chapter. 

For a long time after it was ushered into this world 
of sorrow and trouble, by the parish surgeon, it remained 
a matter of considerable doubt whether the child would 
survive to bear any name at all ; in which case it is 
somewhat more than probable that these memoirs would 
never have appeared ; or, if they had, that, being com- 
prised within a couple of pages, they would have pos- 
sessed the inestimable merit of being the most concise 

VOL. I. 2 


and faithful specimen of biography extant in the litera- 
ture of any age or country. 

Although I am not disposed to maintain that the being 
born in a workhouse is in itself the most fortunate and 
enviable circumstance that can possibly befall a human 
being, I do mean to say that, in this particular instance, 
it was the best thing for Oliver Twist that could by pos- 
sibility have occurred. The fact is, that there was con- 
siderable difficulty in inducing Oliver to take upon him- 
self the office of respiration, — a troublesome practice, 
but one which custom has rendered necessary to our 
easy existence ; and for some time he lay gasping on a 
little flock mattress, rather unequally poised between 
this world and the next : the balance being decidedly in 
favor of the latter. Now, if, during this brief period, 
Oliver had been sun-ounded by careful grandmothers, 
anxious aunts, experienced nurses, and doctors of pro- 
found wisdom, he would most inevitably and indubita- 
bly have been killed in no time. There being nobody 
by, however, but a pauper old woman, who was rendered 
rather misty by an unwonted allowance of beer ; and a 
parish surgeon who did such matters by contract; Oliver 
and Nature fought out the point between them. The 
result was, that, after a few struggles, Oliver breathed, 
sneezed, and proceeded to advertise to the inmates of 
the workhouse the fact of a new burden having been 
imposed upon the parish, by setting up as loud a cry as 
could reasonably have been expected from a male infant 
who had not been possessed of that very useful appen- 
dage, a voice, for a much longer space of time than 
three minutes and a quarter. 

As Oliver gave this first proof of the free and proper 
action of his lungs, the patchwork coverlet which was 


carelessly flung over the iron bedstead, rustled ; the pale 
face of a young woman was raised feebly from the pil- 
low ; and a faint voice imperfectly articulated the words, 
" Let me see the child, and die." 

The surgeon had been sitting with his face turned 
towards the fire : giving the palms of his hands a warm 
and a rub alternately. As the young woman spoke, he 
rose, and advancing to the bed's head, said, with more 
kindness than might have been expected of him : 

" Oh, you must not talk about dying, yet." 

" Lor' bless her dear heart, no ! " interposed the nurse, 
hastily depositing in her pocket a green glass bottle, the 
contents of which she had been tasting in a corner with 
evident satisfaction. " Lor' bless her dear heart, when 
she has lived as long as I have, sir, and had thirteen 
children of her own, and all on 'em dead except two, 
and them in the wurkus with me, she'll know better 
than to take on in that way, bless her dear heart ! 
Think what it is to be a mother, there's a dear young 
lamb, do." 

Apparently this consolatory perspective of a mother's 
prospects failed in producing its due effect. The patient 
shook her head, and stretched out her hand towards the 

The surgeon deposited it in her arras. She imprinted 
her cold white lips passionately on its forehead ; passed 
her hands over her face ; gazed wildly round ; shud- 
dered ; fell back — and died. They chafed her breast, 
hands, and temples ; but the blood had stopped forever. 
They talked of hope and comfort. They had been stran- 
gers too long. 

" It's all over, Mrs. Thingummy ! " said the surgeon 
at last. 


" Ah, poor dear, so it is ! " said the nurse, picking 
up the cork of the green bottle, which had fallen out on 
the pillow, as she stooped to take up the child. " Poor 
dear ! " 

" You needn't mind sending up to me if the child 
cries, nurse," said the surgeon, putting on his gloves 
with great deliberation. " It's very likely it will be 
troublesome. Give it a little gruel if it is." He put 
on his hat, and, pausing by the bedside on his way to 
the door, added, " She was a good-looking girl, too ; 
where did she come from ? " 

" She was brought here last night," replied the old 
woman, " by the overseer's order. She was found ly- 
ing in the street. She had walked some distance, for 
her shoes were worn to pieces ; but where she came from, 
or where she was going to, nobody knows." 

The surgeon leaned over the body, and raised the left 
hand. " The old story," he said, shaking his head : " no 
wedding-ring, I see. ' Ah ! Good-night ! " 

The medical gentleman walked away to dinner ; and 
the nurse, having once more applied herself to the green 
bottle, sat down on a low chair before the fire, and pro- 
ceeded to dress the infant. 

What an excellent example of the power of dress 
young Oliver Twist was ! Wrapped in the blanket 
which had hitherto formed his only covering, he might 
have been the child of a nobleman or a beggar ; it 
would have been hard for the haughtiest stranger to 
have assigned him his proper station in society. But 
now that he was enveloped in the old calico robes 
which had grown yellow in the same service, he was 
badged and ticketed, and fell into his place at once — 
a parish child — the orphan of a workhouse — the hum- 


ble, half-starved drudge — to be cuffed and buffeted 
through the world — despised by all, and pitied by 

Oliver cried lustily. If he could have known that he 
was an orphan, left to the tender mercies of church- 
wardens and overseers, perhaps he would have cried the 




For the next eight or ten months, Oliver was the 
victim of a systematic course of treachery and decep- 
tion. He was brought up by hand. The hungry and 
destitute situation of the infant orphan was duly re- 
ported by the workhouse authorities to the parish author- 
ities. The parish authorities inquired with dignity of 
the workhouse authorities, whether there was no female 
then domiciled in " the house " who was in a situation 
to impart to Oliver Twist the consolation and nourish- 
ment of which he stood in need. The workhouse au- 
thorities replied with humility, that there was not. Upon 
this, the parish authorities magnanimously and humanely 
resolved, that Oliver should be " farmed," or, in other 
words, that he should be despatched to a branch work- 
house some three miles off, where twenty or thirty other 
juvenile offenders against the poor-laws rolled about the 
floor all day, without the inconvenience of too much food 
or too much clothing, under the parental superintendence 
of an elderly female, who received the culprits at and 
for the consideration of sevenpence-halfpenny per small 
head per week. Sevenpence-halfpenny's worth per week 
is a good round diet for a child ; a great deal may be got 


for sevenpence-halfpenny : quite enough to overload its 
stomach, and make it uncomfortable. The elderly female 
was a woman of wisdom and experience ; she knew what 
was good for children ; and she had a very accurate per- 
ception of what was good for herself. So, she appropri- 
ated the greater part of the weekly stipend to her own 
use, and consigned the rising parochial generation to 
even a shorter allowance than was originally provided 
for them. Thereby finding in the lowest depth a deeper 
still ; and proving herself a very great experimental 

Everybody knows the story of another experimental 
philosopher, who had a great theory about a horse being 
able to live without eating, and who demonstrated it so 
well, that he got his own horse down to a straw a day, 
and would most unquestionably have rendered him a 
very spirited and rampacious animal on nothing at all, 
if he had not died, just four-and-twenty hours before he 
was to have had his first comfortable bait of air. Un- 
fortunately for the experimental philosophy of the fe- 
male to whose protecting care Oliver Twist was deliv- 
ered over, a similar result usually attended the operation 
of her system ; for at the very moment when a child had 
contrived to exist upon the smallest possible portion of 
the weakest possible food, it did perversely happen in 
eight and a half cases out of ten, either that it sickened 
from want and cold, or fell into the fire from neglect, or 
got half-smothered by accident ; in any one of which 
cases the miserable little being was usually summoned 
into another world, and there gathered to the fathers it 
had never known in this. 

Occasionally, when there was some more than usually 
interesting inquest upon a parish child who had been 


overlooked in turning up a bedstead, or inadvertently- 
scalded to death when there happened to be a washing, 
though the latter accident was very scarce, — anything 
approaching to a washing being of rare occurrence in 
the farm, — the jury would take it into their heads to 
ask troublesome questions, or the parishioners would 
rebelliously affix their signatures to a remonstrance. 
But these impertinences were speedily checked by the 
e^'idence of the surgeon, and the testimony of the bea- 
dle ; the former of whom had always opened the body 
and found nothing inside (which was very probable in- 
deed), and the latter of whom invariably swore what- 
ever the parish wanted ; which was very self-devotional. 
Besides, the board made periodical pilgrimages to the 
farm, and always sent the beadle the day before to say 
they were going. The children were neat and clean to 
behold, when they went ; and what more would the 
people have ! 

It cannot be expected that this system of farming 
would produce any very extraordinary or luxuriant 
crop. Oliver Twist's ninth birthday found him a pale, 
thin child, somewhat diminutive in stature, and decidedly 
small in circumference. But nature or inheritance had 
implanted a good sturdy spirit in Oliver's breast. It 
had had plenty of room to expand, thanks to the spare 
diet of the establishment ; and perhaps to this circum- 
stance may be attributed his having any ninth birth- 
day at all. Be this as it may, however, it was his ninth 
birthday ; and he was keeping it in the coal-cellar with 
a select party of two other young gentlemen, who, after 
participating with him in a sound threshing, had been 
locked up therein for atrociously presuming to be hun- 
gry, when Mrs. Mann, the good lady of the house, was 


unexpectedly startled by the apparition of Mr. Bumble, 
the beadle, striving to undo the wicket of the garden- 

" Goodness gracious ! is that you, Mr. Bumble, sir ? " 
said Mrs. Mann, thrusting her head out of the window 
in well-affected ecstasies of joy. " (Susan, take Oliver 
and them two brats up-stairs, and wash 'em directly.) — 
My heart alive ! Mr. Bumble, how glad I am to see 
you, sure-ly ! " 

Now, Mr. Bumble was a fat man, and a choleric ; so, 
instead of responding to this open-hearted salutation in a 
kindred spirit, he gave the little wicket a tremendous 
shake, and then bestowed upon it a kick which could 
have emanated from no leg but a beadle's. 

" Lor', only think," said Mrs. Mann, running out, — 
for the three boys had been removed by this time, 
— " only think of that ! That I should have forgotten 
that the gate was bolted on the inside, on account of 
them dear children ! Walk in, sir ; walk in, pray, Mr. 
Bumble, do, sir." 

Although this invitation was accompanied with a cour- 
tesy that might have softened the heart of a churchwar- 
den, it by no means mollified the beadle. 

" Do you think this respectful or proper conduct, Mrs. 
IMann," inquired Mr. Bumble, grasping his cane, " to 
keep the parish-officers awaiting at your garden-gate, 
when they come here upon porochial business connected 
with the porochial orphans ? Are you aweer, Mrs. 
Mann, that you are, as I may say, a porochial delegate, 
and a stipendiary ? " 

" I'm sure, Mr. Bumble, that I was only a-telling one or 
two of the dear children as is so fond of you, that it was 
you a-coming," replied Mrs. Mann with great humility. 


Mr. Bumble had a great idea of his oratorical powers 
and his importance. He had displayed the one, and vin- 
dicated the other. He relaxed. 

" Well, well, Mrs. Mann," he replied in a calmer tone ; 
" it may be as you say ; it may be. Lead the way in, 
Mrs. Mann, for I come on business, and have something 
to say." 

Mrs. Mann ushered the beadle into a small parlor 
with a brick floor, placed a seat for him, and officiously 
deposited his cocked-hat and cane on the table before 
him. Mr. Bumble wiped from his forehead the per- 
spiration which his walk had engendered, glanced com- 
placently at the cocked-hat, and smiled. Yes, he smiled. 
Beadles are but men : and Mr. Bumble smiled. 

" Now, don't you be offended at what I'm a-going to 
say," observed Mrs. Mann, with captivating sweetness. 
" You've had a long walk, you know, or I wouldn't men- 
tion it. Now, will you take a little drop of somethink, 
Mr. Bumble?" 

" Not a drop. Not a drop," said Mr. Bumble, waving 
his right hand, in a dignified, but placid manner. 

" I think you will," said Mrs. Mann, who had noticed 
the tone of the refusal, and the gesture that had accom- 
panied it. " Just a leetle drop, with a little cold water, 
and a lump of sugar." 

Mr. Bumble coughed. 

" Now, just a leetle drop," said Mrs. Mann per- 

" What is it ? " inquired the beadle. 

" Why it's what I'm obliged to keep a little of in the 
house, to put into the blessed infants' Daffy, when they 
a'n't well, Mr. Bumble," replied Mrs. Mann as she 
opened a corner cupboard, and took down a bottle and 


glass. " It's gin. I'll not deceive you, Mr. B. It's 

" Do you give the children Daffy, Mrs. Mann ? " in- 
quired Bumble, following with his eyes the interesting 
process of mixing. 

" Ah, bless 'em ! that I do, dear as it is," replied the 
nurse. " I couldn't see 'em suffer before my very eyes, 
you know, sir." 

" No," said IMr. Bumble approvingly ; " no, you could 
not. You are a humane woman, INIrs. Mann." (Here 
she set down the glass.) " I shall take an early oppor- 
tunity of mentioning it to the board, Mrs. Mann." (He 
drew it towards him.) " You feel as a mother, Mrs. 
Mann." (He stirred the gin-and- water.) "I — I drink 
your health with cheerfulness, Mrs. Mann ; " and he 
swallowed half of it. 

" And now about business," said the beadle, taking out 
a leathern pocket-book. " The child that was half-bap- 
tized ' Oliver Twist,' is nine year old to-day." 

" Bless him !" interposed Mrs. Mann, inflaming her left 
eye wnth the corner of her apron. 

" And notwithstanding a offered reward of ten pound, 
which was afterwards increased to twenty pound. Not- 
withstanding the most superlative, and, I may say, super- 
nat'ral exertions on the part of this parish," said Bumble, 
" we have never been able to discover who is his father, 
or what was his mother's settlement, name, or con — di- 

Mrs. Mann raised her hands in astonishment ; but 
added, after a moment's reflection, " How comes he to 
have any name at all, then ? " 

The beadle drew himself up with great pride, and said, 
" I inwented it." 


« You, Mr. Bumble ! " 

" I, Mrs. Mann. We name our foundlings in alpha- 
betical order. The last was a S, — ' Swubble ' I named 
him. This was a T, — ' Twist ' I named him. The next 
one as comes will be ' Unwin,' and the next ' Vilkins.' I 
have got names ready-made to the end of the alphabet, 
and all the way through it again, when we come to Z." 

" Why, you're quite a literary character, sir ! " said 
Mrs. Mann. 

" Well, well," said the beadle, evidently gratified with 
the compliment ; " perhaps I may be. Perhaps I may 
be, Mrs. Mann." He finished the gin-and-water, and 
added, " Oliver being now too old to remain here, the 
board have determined to have him back into the house. 
I have come out myself to take him there. So let me 
see him at once." 

" I'll fetch him directly," said Mrs. Mann, leaving the 
room for that purpose. Oliver, having had by this time 
as much of the outer coat of dirt, which encrusted his 
face and hands, removed, as could be scrubbed off in one 
washing, was led into the room by his benevolent pro- 

" Make a bow to the gentleman, Oliver," said Mrs. 

Oliver made a bow, which was divided between the 
beadle on the chair, and the cocked-hat on the table. 

" Will you go along with me, Oliver ? " said Mr. Bum- 
ble, in a majestic voice. 

Oliver was about to say that he would go along with 
anybody with great readiness, when, glancing upwards, 
he caught sight of Mrs. Mann, who had got behind the 
beadle's chair, and was shaking her fist at him with a 
furious countenance. He took the hint at once, for the 


fist had been too often impressed upon his body not to 
be deeply impressed upon his recollection. 

" Will she go with me ? " inquired poor Oliver. 

"No, she can't," replied Mr. Bumble. "But she'll 
come and see you sometimes." 

This was no very great consolation to the child. 
Young as he was, however, he had sense enough to 
make a feint of feeling great regret at going away. It 
was no very difficult matter for the boy to call the tears 
into his eyes. Hunger and recent ill-usage are great 
assistants if you want to cry ; and Oliver cried very 
naturally indeed. Mrs. Mann gave him a thousand 
embraces, and, what Oliver wanted a great deal more, 
a piece of bread and butter, lest he should seem too hun- 
gry when he got to the workhouse. With the slice of 
bread in his hand, and the little brown-cloth parish cap 
on his head, Oliver was then led away by Mr. Bumble 
from the wretched home where one kind word or look 
had never lighted the gloom of his infant years. And 
yet he burst into an agony of childish grief, as the cot- 
tage-gate closed after him. Wretched as were the little 
companions in misery he was leaving behind, they were 
the only friends he had ever known ; and a sense of his 
loneliness in the great wide world, sank into the child's 
heart for the first time. 

Mr. Bumble walked on with long strides ; little Oliver, 
firmly grasping his gold-laced cuff, trotted beside him : 
inquiring at the end of every quarter of a mile whether 
they were " nearly there." To these interrogations, Mr. 
Bumble returned very brief and snappish replies ; for 
the temporary blandness which gin-and-water awakens 
in some bosoms had by this time evaporated : and he 
was once again a beadle. 


Oliver had not been within the walls of the workhouse 
a quarter of an hour ; and had scarcely completed the 
demolition of a second slice of bread ; when Mr. Bum- 
ble, who had handed him over to the care of an old 
woman, returned ; and, telling him it was a board night, 
informed him that the board had said he was to appear 
before it forthwith. 

Not having a very clearly defined notion of what a 
live board was, Oliver was rather astounded by this 
intelligence, and was not quite certain whether he ought 
to laugh or cry. He had no time to think about the mat- 
ter, however ; for Mr. Bumble gave him a tap on the 
head with his cane, to wake him up ; and another on the 
back to make him lively ; and bidding him follow, con- 
ducted him into a large whitewashed room, where eight 
or ten fat gentlemen were sitting round a table. At the 
top of the table, seated in an arm-chair rather higher 
than the rest, was a particularly fat gentleman, with a 
very round, red face. 

" Bow to the board," said Bumble. Ohver brushed 
away two or three tears that were lingering in his eyes ; 
and seeing no board but the table, fortunately bowed to that. 

" What's your name, boy ? " said the gentleman in the 
high chair. 

Oliver was frightened at the sight of so many gentle- 
men, which made him tremble ; and the beadle gave him 
another tap behind, which made him cry. These two 
causes made him answer in a very low and hesitating 
voice ; whereupon a gentleman in a white waistcoat said 
he was a fool. Which was a capital way of raising his 
spirits, and putting him quite at his ease. 

" Boy," said the gentleman in the high chair, " Hsten 
to me. You know you're an orphan, I suppose ? " 


" What's that, sir ? " inquired poor Oliver. 

" The boy is a fool — I thought he was," said the gen- 
tleman in the white waistcoat. 

" Hush ! " said the gentleman who had spoken first. 
"You know you've got no father or mother, and that 
you were brought up by the parish, don't you ? " 

" Yes, sir," replied Oliver, weeping bitterly. 

" What are you crying for ? " inquired the gentleman 
ill the white waistcoat. And to be sure it was very 
extraordinary. What could the boy be crying for ? 

" I hope you say your prayers every night," said an- 
other gentleman in a gruff voice ; " and pray for the 
people who feed you, and take care of you — like a 

" Yes, sir," stammered the boy. The gentleman who 
spoke last was unconsciously right. It would have been 
veri/ like a Christian, and a marvellously good Christian 
too, if Oliver had prayed for the people who fed and 
took care of him. But he hadn't, because nobody had 
taught him. 

" Well ! You have come here to be educated, and 
taught a useful trade," said the red-faced gentleman in 
the high chair. 

" So you'll begin to pick oakum to-morrow morning at 
six o'clock," added the surly one in the white waistcoat. 

For the combination of both these blessings in the one 
simple process of picking oakum, Oliver bowed low by 
the direction of the beadle, and was then hurried away 
to a large ward : where, on a rough hard bed, he sobbed 
himself to sleep. What a noble illustration of the tender 
laws of England ! They let the paupers go to sleep ! 

Poor Oliver ! He little thought, as he lay sleeping 
in happy unconsciousness of all around him, that the 


board had that very day arrived at a decision which 
would exercise the most material influence over all his 
future fortunes. But they had. And this was it : — 

The members of this board were very sage, deep, 
philosophical men; and when they came to turn their 
attention to the workhouse, they found out at once, what 
ordinary folks would never have discovered — the poor 
people like it ! It was a regular place of public enter- 
tainment for the poorer classes; a tavern where there 
was nothing to pay ; a public breakfast, dinner, tea, and 
supper all the year round ; a brick and mortar elysium, 
where it was all play and no work. " Oho ! " said the 
board, looking very knowing ; " we are the fellows to set 
this to rights ; we'll stop it all, in no time." So, they 
estabhshed the rule, that all poor people should have the 
alternative (for they would compel nobody, not they) 
of being starved by a gradual process in the house, or 
by a quick one out of it. With this view, they con- 
tracted with the waterworks to lay on an unlimited sup- 
ply of water ; and with a corn-factor to supply period- 
ically small quantities of oatmeal ; and issued three meals 
of thin gruel a day, with an onion twice a week, and half 
a roll on Sundays. They made a great many other wise 
and humane regulations, having reference to the ladies, 
which it is not necessary to repeat; kindly undertook 
to divorce poor married people, in consequence of the 
great expense of a suit in Doctors' Commons ; and, in- 
stead of compelling a man to support his family, as they 
had theretofore done, took his family away from him 
and made him a bachelor ! There is no saying how 
many applicants for relief under these last two heads 
might have started up in all clashes of society, if it had 
not been coupled with the workhouse; but the board 


were long-headed men, and had provided for this diffi- 
culty. The relief was inseparable from the workhouse 
and the gruel ; and that frightened people. 

For the first six months after Oliver Twist was re- 
moved, the system was in full operation. It was rather 
expei ?i e at first, in consequence of the increase in the 
undertaker's bill, and the necessity of taking in the 
clothes of all the paupers, which fluttered loosely on 
taeir wasted, shrunken forms, after a w^eek or two's 
gruel. But the number of workhouse inmates got thin 
as well as the paupers ; and the board were in ecstasies. 

The room in which the boys were fed, was a large 
stone hall, with a copper at one end : out of which the 
master, dressed in an apron for the purpose, and assisted 
by one or two women, ladled the gruel at meal-times. 
Of this festive composition, each boy had one porringer, 
and no more — except on occasions of great public re- 
joicing, when he had two ounces and a quarter of bread 
besides. The bowls never wanted washing. The boys 
polished them with their spoons till they shone again ; 
and when they had performed this operation, (which 
never took very long, the spoons being nearly as large 
as the bowls.) they would sit staring at the copper, with 
such eager eyes, as if they could have devoured the very 
bricks of which it was composed ; employing themselves, 
meanwhile, in sucking their fingers most assiduously, 
with the view of catching up any stray splashes of gruel 
that might have been cast thereon. Boys have generally 
excellent appetites. Oliver Twist and his companions 
suffered the tortures of slow starvation for three months : 
at last they got so voracious and wild with hunger, that 
one boy, who was tall for his age, and hadn't been used 
to that sort of thing, (for his father had kept a small 


cook's shop,) hinted darkly to his companions, that un- 
less lie had another basin of gruel per diem, he was 
afraid he might some night happen to eat the boy who 
slept next him, who happened to be a weakly youth of 
tender age. He had a wild, hungry eye ; and they im- 
plicitly believed him. A council was held; lots were 
cast who should walk up to the master after supper that 
evening, and ask for more ; and it fell to Oliver Twist. 

The evening arrived ; the boys took their places. The 
master, in his cook's ui;iform, stationed himself at the 
copper ; his pauper assistants ranged themselves behind 
him ; the gruel was served out ; and a long grace was 
said over the short commons. The gruel disappeared ; 
the boys whispered each other, and winked at Oliver; 
while his next neighbors nudged him. Child as he was, 
he was desperate with hunger, and reckless with misery. 
He rose from the table ; and advancing to the master, 
basin and spoon in hand, said, somewhat alarmed at his 
own temerity, — 

" Please, sir, I want some more." 

The master was a fat, healthy man ; but he turned 
very pale. He gazed in stupefied astonishment on the 
small rebel for some seconds ; and then clung for support 
to the copper. The assistants were paralyzed with won- 
der ; the boys with fear. 

" What ! " said the master at length, in a faint voice. 

" Please, sir," replied Oliver, " I want some more.'* 

The master aimed a blow at Oliver's head with the 
ladle ; pinioned him in his arms ; and shrieked aloud for 
the beadle. 

The board were sitting in solemn conclave, when Mr. 
Bumble rushed into the room in great excitement, and 
addressing the gentleman in the high chair, said, — 


" Mr. Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sir ! Oliver Twist 
has asked for more ! " 

There was a general start. Horror was depicted on 
every countenance. 

" For more ! " said Mr. Limbkins. " Compose your- 
self Bumble, and answer me distinctly. Do I under- 
stand that he asked for more, after he had eaten the sup- 
per allotted by the dietary ? " 

" He did, sir," replied Bumble. 

" That boy will be hung," said the gentleman in the 
white waistcoat. " I know^ that boy will be hung." 

Nobody controverted the prophetic gentleman's opin- 
ion. An animated discussion took place. Oliver was 
ordered into instant confinement : and a bill was next 
morning pasted on the outside of the gate, offering a 
reward of five pounds to anybody who would take Oliver 
Twist off the hands of the parish. In other words, five 
pounds and Ohver Twist were offered to any man or 
woman who wanted an apprentice to any trade, business, 
or calling. 

'• I never was more convinced of anything in my hfe," 
said the gentleman in the white waistcoat, as he knocked 
at the gate and read the bill next morning : " I never 
was more convinced of anything in my life, than I am 
that that boy will come to be hung." 

As I purpose to show in the sequel whether the white- 
waistcoated gentleman was right or not, I should perhaps 
mar the interest of this narrative (supposing it to possess 
any at all), if I ventured to hint, just yet, whether the 
life of Oliver Twist had this violent termination or no. 




For a week after the commission of the impious and 
profane offence of asking for more, Oliver remained a 
close prisoner in the dark and solitary room to which he 
had been consigned by the wisdom and mercy of the 
board. It appears, at first sight, not unreasonable to 
suppose, that, if he had entertained a becoming feeling 
of respect for the prediction of the gentleman in the 
white waistcoat, he would have established that sage 
individual's prophetic character, once and forever, by 
tying one end of his pocket-handkerchief to a hook in 
the wall, and attaching himself to the other. To the 
performance of this feat, however, there was one ob- 
stacle : namely, that pocket-handkerchiefs, being decided 
articles of luxury, had been, for all future times and ages, 
removed from the noses of paupers by the express order 
of the board, in council assembled : solemnly given and 
pronounced under their hands and seals. There was a 
still greater obstacle in Oliver's youth and childishness. 
He only cried bitterly all day ; and when the long, dis- 
mal night came on, he spread his little hands before his 
eyes to shut out the darkness, and crouching in the 


corner, tried to sleep : ever and anon waking with a start 
and tremble, and drawing himself closer and closer to the 
wall, as if to feel even its cold hard surface were a pro- 
tection in the gloom and loneliness which surrounded him. 

Let it not be supposed by the enemies of " the sys- 
tem," that, during the period of his solitary incarceration, 
Oliver was denied the benefit of exercise, the pleasure of 
society, or the advantages of religious consolation. As 
for exercise, it was nice cold weather, and he was allowed 
to perform bis ablutions every morning under the pump, 
in a stone yard, in the presence of Mr. Bumble, who 
prevented his catching cold, and caused a tingling sensa- 
tion to pervade his frame, by repeated applications of 
the cane. As for society, he was carried every other 
day into the hall where the boys dined, and there sociably 
flogged as a public warning and example. And so far 
from being denied the advantages of religious consola- 
tion, he was kicked into the same apartment every even- 
ing at prayer-time, and there permitted to listen to, and 
console his mind with, a general supplication of the boys, 
containing a special clause, therein inserted by authority 
of the board, in which they entreated to be made good, 
virtuous, contented, and obedient, and to be guarded 
from the sins and vices of Oliver Twist : whom the sup- 
plication distinctly set forth to be under the exclusive 
patronage and protection of the powers of wickedness, 
and an article direct from the manufactory of the very 
Devil himself. 

It chanced one morning, while Oliver's affairs were in 
this auspicious and comfortable state, that Mr. Gamfield, 
chimney-sweeper, was wending his way down the High 
Street, deeply cogitating in his mind his ways and means 
of paying certain arrears of rent, for which his landlord 


had become rather pressing. Mr. Gamfield's most san- 
guine estimate of his finances could not raise them 
within full five pounds of the desired amount ; and in a 
species of arithmetical desperation, he was alternately 
cudgelling his brains and his donkey, when, passing the 
workhouse, his eyes encountered the bill on the gate. 

"Wo — o !" said Mr. Gamfield to the donkey. 

The donkey was in a state of profound abstraction : 
wondering, probably, whether he was destined to be 
regaled with a cabbage-stalk or two when he had dis- 
posed of the two sacks of soot with which the little cart 
was laden ; so, without noticing the word of command, 
he jogged onward. 

Mr. Gamfield growled a fierce imprecation on the 
donkey generally, but more particularly on his eyes ; and 
running after him, bestowed a blow on his head, which 
would inevitably have beaten in any skull but a donkey's. 
Then, catching hold of the bridle, he gave his jaw a sharp 
wrench, by way of gentle reminder that he was not his 
own master; and by these means turned him round. 
He then gave him another blow on the head, just to stun 
him till he came back again. Having completed these 
arrangements, he walked up to the gate, to read the 

The gentleman with the white waistcoat was standing 
at the gate, with his hands behind him, after having de- 
livered himself of some profound sentiments in the board- 
room. Having witnessed the little dispute between Mr. 
Gamfield and the donkey, he smiled joyously when tliat 
person came up to read the bill, for he saw at once that 
Mr. Gamfield was exactly the sort of master Oliver 
Twist wanted. Mr. Gamfield smiled, too, as he perused 
the document; for five pounds was just the sum he had 


been wisliing for ; and, as to the boy with which it was 
encumbered, Mr. Gamfield, knowing what the dietary 
of the workhouse was, well knew he would be a nice 
small pattern, just the very thing for register stoves. So 
he spelt the bill through again, from beginning to end ; 
and then, touching his fur cap in token of humility, ac- 
costed the gentleman in the white waistcoat. 

" This here boy, sir, wot the parish wants to 'prentis," 
said INIr. Gamfield. 

" Ay, my man," said the gentleman in the white waist- 
coat, with a condescending smile. " What of him ? " 

" If the parish vould like him to learn a light pleasant 
trade, in a good 'spectable chimbley-sweepin' bis'ness," 
said Mr. Gamfield, "I wants a 'prentis, and I'm ready- 
to take him." 

" Walk in," said the gentleman in the white waistcoat. 
Mr. Gamfield having lingered behind, to give the donkey 
another blow on the head, and another wrench of the 
jaw, as a caution not to run away in his absence, fol- 
lowed the gentleman with the white waistcoat into the 
room where Oliver had first seen him. 

" It's a nasty trade," said Mr. Limbkins when Gamfield 
had again stated his wish. 

" Young boys have been smothered in chimneys before 
now," said another gentleman. 

" That's acause they damped the straw afore they lit 
it in the chimbley to make 'em come down agin," said 
Gamfield ; " that's all smoke, and no blaze ; vereas smoke 
a'n't o' no use at all in makin' a boy come down, for it 
only sinds him to sleep, and that's wot he likes. Boys 
is wery obstinit, and wery lazy, gen'l'men, and there's 
nothink like a good hot blaze to make 'em come down 
vith a run. It's humane too, gen'l'men, acause, even if 


they've stuck in the chimbley, roasting their feet makes 
'em struggle to hextricate theirselves." 

The gentleman in the white waistcoat appeared very 
much amused by this explanation; but his mirth was 
speedily checked by a look from Mr. Limbkins. The 
board then proceeded to converse among themselves for 
a few minutes, but in so low a tone, that the words 
" saving of expenditure," " look well in the accounts," 
" have a printed report published," were alone audible. 
These only chanced to be heard, indeed, on account of 
their being very frequently repeated with great emphasis. 

At length the whispering ceased; and the members 
of the board, having resumed their seats and their so- 
lemnity, Mr. Limbkins said : 

" We have considered your proposition, and we don't 
approve of it." 

" Not at all," said the gentleman in the white waist- 

" Decidedly not," added the other members. 

As Mr. Gamfield did happen to labor under the slight 
imputation of having bruised three or four boys to death 
already, it occurred to him that the board had, perhaps, 
in some unaccountable freak, taken it into their heads 
that this extraneous circumstance ought to influence their 
proceedings. It was very unlike their general mode of 
doing business, if they had ; but still, as he had no par- 
ticular wish to revive the rumor, he twisted his cap in 
his hands, and walked slowly from the table. 

" So you won't let me have him, gen'l'men ? " said Mr. 
Gamfield, pausing near the door. 

" No," replied Mr. Limbkins ; " at least, as it's a nasty 
business, we think you ought to take something less 
than the premium we offered." 


Mr. Gamfield's countenance brightened, as, with a 
quick step, he returned to the table, and said, — 

" "SVhat'll you give, genTmen ? Come ! Don't be too 
hard on a poor man. What'U you give ?" 

" I should say, three pound ten was plenty," said Mr. 

" Ten shillings too much," said the gentleman in the 
white waistcoat. 

" Come ! " said Gamfield ; " say four pound, gen'l'men. 
Say four pound, and you've got rid on him for good and 
all. There ! " 

" Three pound ten," repeated Mr. Limbkins, firmly. 

" Come ! I'll split the difference, gen'l'men," urged 
Gamfield. " Three pound fifteen." 

" Not a farthing more," was the firm reply of Mr. 

"You're desperate hard upon me, gen'l'men," said 
Gamfield, wavering. 

" Pooh ! pooh ! nonsense ! " said the gentleman in the 
white waistcoat. " He'd be cheap with nothing at all, as 
a premium. Take him, you silly fellow ! He's just 
the boy for you. He wants the stick, now and then : 
it'll do him good ; and his board needn't come very ex- 
pensive, for he hasn't been overfed since he was born. 
Ha! ha! ha!" 

Mr. Gamfield gave an arch look at the faces round 
the table, and, observing a smile on all of them, grad- 
ually broke into a smile himself. The bargain was made. 
Mr. Bumble was at once instructed that Oliver Twist 
and his indentures were to be conveyed before the 
magistrate, for signature and approval, that very after- 

In pursuance of this determination, little Oliver, to his 


excessive astonishment, was released from bondage, and 
ordered to put himself into a clean shirt. He had hardly 
achieved this very unusual gymnastic performance, when 
Mr. Bumble brought him, with his own hands, a basin 
of gruel, and the holiday allowance of two ounces and a 
quarter of bread. At this tremendous sight, Ohver be- 
gan to cry very piteously: thinking, not unnaturally, that 
the board must have determined to kill him for some 
useful purpose, or they never would have begun to fatten 
him up in that way. 

" Don't make your eyes red, Oliver, but eat your food 
and be thankful," said Mr. Bumble, in a tone of impres- 
sive pomposity. '' You're a-going to be made a 'prentice 
of, Oliver." 

" A 'prentice, sir ! " said the child, trembling. 

"Yes, Oliver," said Mr. Bumble. "The kind and 
blessed gentlemen which is so many parents to you, 
Oliver, when you have none of your own : are a-going 
to 'prentice you : and to set you up in life, and make a 
man of you : although the expense to the parish is three 
pound ten ! — three pound ten, Oliver ! — seventy shil- 
lin's — one hundred and forty sixpences ! — and all for a 
naughty orphan which nobody can't love." 

As Mr. Bumble paused to take breath, after deliver- 
ing this address in an awful voice, the tears rolled down 
the poor child's face, and he sobbed bitterly. 

" Come," said Mr. Bumble, somewhat less pompously, 
for it was gratifying to his feelings to observe the effect 
his eloquence had produced ; — " Come, Oliver ! Wipe 
your eyes with the cuffs of your jacket, and don't cry 
into 30ur gruel ; that's a very foolish action, Oliver." It 
certainly was, for there was quite enough water in it 


On their wrj to the magistrate, Mr. Bumble instructed 
OHver that all he would have to do would be to look 
very happy, and say, when the gentleman asked him if 
he wanted to be apprenticed, that he should like it very 
much indeed ; both of which injunctions Oliver promised 
to obey : the rather as Mr. Bumble threw in a gentle 
hint, that if he failed in either particular, there was no 
telling what would be done to him. When they arrived 
at the office, he was shut up in a little room by himself, 
and admonished by Mr. Bumble to stay there, until he 
came back to fetch him. 

There the boy remained, with a palpitating heart, for 
half an hour. At the expiration of which time Mr. 
Bumble thrust in his head, unadorned with the cocked- 
hat, and said aloud : 

" Xow, Oliver, my dear, come to the gentleman." As 
Mr. Bumble said this, he put on a grim and threatening 
look, and added, in a low voice, " Mind what I told you, 
you young rascal ! " 

Oliver stared innocently in Mr. Bumble's face at this 
somewhat contradictory style of address ; but that gen- 
tleman prevented his offering any remark thereupon, by 
leading him at once into an adjoining room : the door 
of which was open. It was a large room, with a great 
window. Behind a desk sat two old gentlemen with 
powdered heads : one of whom was reading the news- 
paper ; while the other was perusing, with the aid of a 
pair of tortoise-shell spectacles, a small piece of parch- 
ment which lay before him. Mr. Limbkins was standing 
in front of the desk on one side ; and Mr. Gamfield, with 
a partially washed face, on the other ; while two or three 
bluff-looking men, in top-boots, were lounging about. 

The old gentleman with the spectacles gradually dozed 


off, over the little bit of parchment ; and there was a 
short pause, after Oliver had been stationed by Mr. 
Bumble in front of the desk. 

" This is the boy, your worship," said Mr. Bumble. 

The old gentleman who was reading the newspaper 
raised his head for a moment, and pulled the other old 
gentleman by the sleeve ; whereupon the last-mentioned 
old gentleman woke up. 

" Oh, is this the boy ? " said the old gentleman. 

" This is him, sir," replied Mr. Bumble. " Bow to the 
magistrate, my dear." 

Oliver roused himself, and made his best obeisance. 
He had been wondering, with his eyes fixed on the mag- 
istrates' powder, whether all boards were born with that 
white stuff on their heads, and were boards from thence- 
forth on that account. 

" Well," said the old gentleman, " I suppose he's fond 
of chimney-sweeping ? " 

" He doats on it, your worship," replied Bumble : giv- 
ing Oliver a sly pinch, to intimate that he had better not 
say he didn't. 

" And he will be a sweep, will he ? " inquired the old 

" If we was to bind him to any other trade to-mor- 
row, he'd run away simultaneous, your worship," replied 

" And this man that's to be his master — you, sir — 
you'll treat him well, and feed him, and do all that sort 
of thing, — will you ? " said the old gentleman. 

" When I says I will, I means I will," replied Mr. 
Gamfield doggedly. 

" You're a rough speaker, my friend, but you look an 
honest, open-hearted man," said the old gentleman, turn- 


ing Ills spectacles in the direction of the candidate for 
Oliver's premium, whose villanous countenance was a 
regular stamped receipt for cruelty. But, the magistrate 
was half blind and half childish, so he couldn't reasona- 
bly be expected to discern what other people did. 

"I hope I am, sir," said Mr. Gamfield, with an ugly leer. 

" I liave no doubt you are, my friend," replied the old 
gentleman : fixing his spectacles more firmly on his nose, 
and looking about him for the inkstand. 

It was the critical moment of Oliver's fate. If the 
inkstand had been where the old gentleman thought it 
was, he would have dipped his pen into it, and signed 
the indentures : and Oliver would have been straight- 
way hurried off. But, as it chanced to be immediately 
under his nose, it followed, as a matter of course, that 
he looked all over his desk for it, without finding it ; 
and happening in the course of his search to look 
straight before him, his gaze encountered the pale and 
terrified face of Oliver Twist : who, despite all the ad- 
monitory looks and pinches of Bumble, was regarding 
the repulsive countenance of his future master, with a 
mingled expression of horror and fear, too palpable to 
be mistaken, even by a half-blind magistrate. 

The old gentleman stopped, laid down his pen, and 
looked from Oliver to Mr. Limbkins : who attempted to 
take snuff with a cheerful and unconcerned aspect. 

" My boy ! " said the old gentleman, leaning over the 
desk. OHver started at the sound. He might be ex- 
cused for doing so ; for the words were kindly said ; and 
strange sounds frighten one. He trembled violently, 
and burst into tears. 

" My boy ! " said the old gentleman, " you look pale 
and alarmed. What is the matter?" 


" Stand a little away from him, Beadle," said the other 
magistrate, laying aside the paper, and leaning forward 
with an expression of interest. ••' Now, boy, tell us what's 
the matter : don't be afraid." 

Oliver fell on his knees, and clasping his hands to- 
gether, prayed that they would order him back to the 
dark room — that they would starve him — beat him — 
kill him if they pleased — rather than send him away 
with that dreadful man. 

" Well ! " said Mr. Bumble, raising his hands and eyes 
with most impressive solemnity, — " well, of all the artful 
and designing orphans that ever I see, Oliver, you are 
one of the most barefacedest." 

" Hold your tongue, Beadle," said the second old gen- 
tleman, when ]Mr. Bumble had given vent to this com- 
pound adjective. 

" I beg your worship's pardon," said Mr. Bumble, in- 
credulous of his having heard aright. " Did your wor- 
ship speak to me ? " 

" Yes. Hold your tongue." 

Mr. Bumble was stupefied with astonishment. A bea- 
dle ordered to hold his tongue ! A moral revolution ! 

The old gentleman in the tortoise-shell spectacles 
looked at his companion ; he nodded significantly. 

" We refuse to sanction these indentures," said the 
old gentleman : tossing aside the piece of parchment as 
he spoke. 

" I hope," stammered Mr. Limbkins, — "I hope the 
magistrates will not form the opinion that the authorities 
have been guilty of any improper conduct, on the unsup- 
ported testimony of a mere child." 

" The magistrates are not called upon to pronounce 
any opinion on the matter," said the second old gentle- 


man sharply. " Take the boy back to the workhouse, 
and treat him kindly. He seems to want it." 

That same evening, the gentleman in the white waist- 
coat most positively and decidedly affirmed, not only that 
Oliver would be hung, but that he would be drawn and 
quartered into the bargain. Mr. Bumble shook his head 
with gloomy mystery, and said he wished he might come 
to good ; whereunto Mr. Gamfield replied, that he wished 
he might come to him ; which, although he agreed with 
the beadle in most matters, would seem to be a wish of a 
totally opposite description. 

The next morning, the pubhc were once more in- 
formed that Oliver Twist was again To Let ; and that 
five pounds would be paid to anybody who would take 
possession of him. 




In great families, when an advantageous place cannot 
be obtained, either in possession, reversion, remainder, or 
expectancy, for the young man who is growing up, it is 
a very general custom to send him to sea. The board, 
in imitation of so wise and salutary an example, took 
counsel together on the expediency of shipping off Oli- 
ver Twist, in some small trading vessel bound to a good 
unhealthy port ; which suggested itself as the very best 
thing that could possibly be done with him : the prob- 
ability being, that the skipper would flog him to death, in 
a playful mood, some day after dinner ; or would knock 
his brains out with an iron bar ; both pastimes being, as is 
pretty generally known, very favorite and common recrea- 
tions among gentlemen of that class. The more the case 
presented itself to the board, in this point of view, the 
more manifold the advantages of the step appeared ; so, 
they came to the conclusion, that the only way of pro- 
viding for Oliver effectually, was to send him to sea 
without delay. 

Mr. Bumble had been despatched to make various pre- 
liminary inquiries, with the view of finding out some cap- 
tain or other who wanted a cabin-boy without any friends; 


and was returning to the workhouse to communicate the 
result of his mission ; when he encountered, just at the 
gate, no less a person than Mr. Sowerberry, the parochial 

IVlr. Sowerberry was a tall, gaunt, large-jointed man, 
attired in a suit of threadbare black, with darned cotton 
stockings of the same color, and shoes to answer. His 
features were not naturally intended to wear a smiling 
aspect, but he was in general rather given to professional 
jocosity. His step was elastic, and his face betokened 
inward pleasantry, as he advanced to Mr. Bumble, and 
shook him cordially by the hand. 

" I have taken the measure of the two women that 
died last night, IVIr. Bumble," said the undertaker. 

" You'll make your fortune, Mr. Sowerberry," said the 
beadle, as he thrust his thumb and forefinger into the 
proffered snuflP-box of the undertaker : which was an 
ingenious little model of a patent coffin. " I say you'll 
make your fortune, Mr. Sowerberry," repeated Mr. Bum- 
ble, tapping the undertaker on the shoulder, in a friendly 
manner, with his cane. 

" Think so ? " said the undertaker in a tone which half 
admitted and half disputed the probability of the event. 
" The prices allowed by the board are very small, Mr. 

" So are the coffins," replied the beadle ; with precisely 
as near an approach to a laugh as a great official ought 
to indulge in. 

Mr. Sowerberry was much tickled at this : as of 
course he ought to be ; and laughed a long time with- 
out cessation. " Well, well, Mr. Bumble," he said at 
length, "there's no denying that, since the new system of 
feeding has come in, the coffins are something narrower 

VOL. I. 4 


and more shallow than they used to be ; but we must 
have some profit, Mr. Bumble. Well-seasoned timber 
is an expensive article, sir ; and all the iron handles 
come, by canal, from Birmingham." 

" Well, well," said Mr. Bumble, " every trade has its 
drawbacks. A fair profit is, of course, allowable." 

" Of course, of course," replied the undertaker ; " and 
if I don't get a profit upon this or that particular article, 
why, I make it up in the long run, you see — he ! he ! 

" Just so," said Mr. Bumble. 

" Though I must say," continued the undertaker, re- 
suming the current of observations which the beadle had 
interrupted, — " though I must say, Mr. Bumble, that I 
have to contend against one very great disadvantage : 
which is, that all the stout people go off the quickest. 
The people who have been better off, and have paid 
rates for many years, are the first to sink when they 
come into the house ; and let me tell you, Mr. Bumble, 
that three or four inches over one's calculation makes a 
great hole in one's profits ; especially when one has a 
family to provide for, sir." 

As Mr. Sowerberry said this, with the becoming indig- 
nation of an ill-used man ; and as ]Mr. Bumble felt that 
it rather tended to convey a reflection on the honor of 
the parish ; the latter gentleman thought it advisable to 
change the subject. Oliver Twist being uppermost in 
his mind, he made him his theme. 

" By-the-by," said Mr. Bumble, " you don't know any- 
body who wants a boy, do you ? A porochial 'prentice, 
who is at present a deadweight ; a millstone as I may 
say ; round the porochial throat ? Liberal terms, Mr. 
Sowerberry, liberal terms ! " As Mr. Bumble spoke, he 


raised his cane to the bill above him, and gave three dis- 
tinct raps upon the words " five pounds : " which were 
printed thereon in Roman capitals of gigantic size. 

" Gadso ! " said the undertaker, taking Mr. Bumble 
by the gilt-edged lappel of his official coat ; " that's just 
the very thing I wanted to speak to you about. You 
know — dear me, what a very elegant button this is, Mr. 
Bumble ! I never noticed it before." 

" Yes, I think it is rather pretty," said the beadle, 
glancing proudly downwards at the large brass buttons 
which embellished his coat. " The die is the same as 
the porochial seal — the Good Samaritan healing the 
sick and bruised man. The board presented it to me on 
New-year's morning, Mr. Sowerberry. I put it on, I 
remember, for the first time, to attend the inquest on 
that reduced tradesman, who died in a doorway at mid- 

" I recollect," said the undertaker. " The jury brought 
it in, ' Died from exposure to the cold, and want of the 
common necessaries of life,' didn't they ? " 

Mr. Bumble nodded. 

" And they made it a special verdict, I think," said 
the undertaker, "by adding some words to the effect, 
that if the relieving officer had " 

" Tush ! Foolery ! " interposed the beadle. " If the 
board attended to all the nonsense that ignorant jurymen" 
talk, they'd have enough to do." 

" Very true," said the undertaker ; " they would in- 

" Juries," said Mr. Bumble, grasping his cane tightly, 
as was his wont when working into a passion : "juries is 
ineddicated, vulgar, grovelling wretches." 

" So they are," said the undertaker. 

J, OF iLi— u.ib. 


" They haven't no more philosophy nor political econ- 
omy about 'em than that," said the beadle, snapping his 
fingers contemptuously. 

" No more they have," acquiesced the undertaker. 

" I despise 'em," said the beadle, growing very red in 
the face. 

" So do I," rejoined the undertaker. 

" And I only wish we'd a jury of the independent 
sort, in the house for a week or two," said the beadle ; 
" the rules and regulations of the board would soon bring 
their spirit down for 'em." 

" Let 'em alone for that," replied the undertaker. So 
saying, he smiled, approvingly, to calm the rising wrath 
of the indignant parish officer. 

Mr. Bumble lifted off his cocked-hat ; took a hand- 
kerchief from the inside of the crown ; wiped from his 
forehead the perspiration which his rage had engen- 
dered ; fixed the cocked-hat on again ; and, turning to 
the undertaker, said in a calmer voice : 

« Well ; what about the boy ? " 

" Oh ! " replied the undertaker ; " why you know, Mr. 
Bumble, I pay a good deal towards the poor's rates." 

« Hem ! " said Mr. Bumble. " Well ? " 

" Well," replied the undertaker, " I was thinking that 
if I pay so much towards 'em, I've a right to get as 
much out of 'em as I can, Mr. Bumble ; and so — and 
so — I think I'll take the boy myself" 

Mr. Bumble grasped the undertaker by the arm, and 
led him into the building. Mr. Sowerberry was closeted 
with the board for five minutes ; and it was arranged that 
Oliver should go to him that evening " upon hking," — 
a phrase which means, in the case of a parish appren- 
tice, that if the master find, upon a short trial, that he 


can get enougli work out of a boy without putting too 
much food into him, he shall have him for a term of 
years, to do what he likes with. 

When little Oliver was taken before the " gentlemen " 
that evening ; and informed that he was to go, that night, 
as general house-lad to a coffin-maker's ; and that if he 
complained of his situation, or ever came back to the 
parish again, he would be sent to sea, there to be 
drowned, or knocked on the head, as the case might 
be, he evinced so little emotion, that they, by common 
consent, pronounced him a hardened young rascal, and 
ordered Mr. Bumble to remove him forthwith. 

Now, although it was very natural that the board, of 
all people in the world, should feel in a great state of 
virtuous astonishment and horror at the smallest tokens 
of want of feeling on the part of anybody, they were 
rather out, in this particular instance. The simple fact 
was, that Oliver, instead of possessing too little feeling, 
possessed rather too much ; and was in a fair way of 
being reduced, for Ufe, to a state of brutal stupidity and 
sullenness by the ill-usage he had received. He heard 
the news of his destination, in perfect silence ; and, hav- 
ing had his luggage put into his hand — which was not 
very difficult to carry, inasmuch as it was all comprised 
within the limits of a brown paper parcel, about half a 
foot square by three inches deep — he pulled his cap 
over his eyes ; and once more attaching himself to Mr. 
Bumble's coat-cuff, was led away by that dignitary to a 
new scene of suffering. 

For some time, Mr. Bumble drew Oliver along, with- 
out notice or remark ; for the beadle carried his head 
very erect, as a beadle always should : and, it being a 
windy day, little Oliver was completely enshrouded by 


the skirts of Mr. Bumble's coat as they blew open, and 
disclosed to great advantage his flapped waistcoat and 
drab plush knee-breeches. As they drew near to their 
destination, however, Mr. Bumble thought it expedient 
to look down and see that the boy was in good order 
for inspection by his new master : which he accord- 
ingly did : with a fit and becoming air of gracious 

" Oliver ! " said Mr. Bumble. 

" Yes, sir," replied Oliver, in a low, tremulous voice. 

" Pull that cap off your eyes, and hold up your head, 

Although Oliver did as he was desired, at once ; and 
passed the back of his unoccupied hand briskly across 
his eyes, he left a tear in them when he looked up at his 
conductor. As Mr. Bumble gazed sternly upon him, it 
rolled down his cheek. It was followed by another, and 
another. The child made a strong effort, but it was an 
unsuccessful one. Withdrawing his other hand from Mr. 
Bumble's, he covered his face with both ; and wept un- 
til the tears sprung out, from between his thin and bony 

" Well ! " exclaimed Mr. Bumble, stopping short, and 
darting at his little charge a look of intense malignity. 
"Well! Of all the ungratefullest, and worst-disposed 
boys as ever I see, Oliver, you are the " 

" No, no, sir," sobbed Oliver, clinging to the hand 
which held the well-known cane ; " no, no, sir ; I will 
be good ; indeed ; indeed, indeed I will, sir ! I am a 
very little boy, sir ; and it is so — so " 

" So what ? " inquired Mr. Bumble in amazement. 

" So lonely, sir ! So very lonely ! " cried the child. 
" Everybody hates me. Oh ! sir, don't, don't pray be 


cross to me ! " The child beat his hand upon his heart ; 
and looked in his companion's face, with tears of real 

Mr. Bumble regarded Oliver's piteous and helpless 
look with some astonishment, for a few seconds ; hemmed 
three or four times in a husky manner ; and after mut- 
tering something about " that troublesome cough," bade 
Oliver dry his eyes and be a good boy. Then once 
more taking his hand, he walked on with him in si- 

The undertaker, who had just put up the shutters of 
his shop, was making some entries in his day-book by 
the light of a most appropriate dismal candle, when Mr. 
Bumble entered. 

" Aha ! " said the undertaker : looking up from the 
book, and pausing in the middle of a word .; " is that 
you. Bumble ? " 

" No one else, Mr. Sowerberry," replied the beadle. 
" Here ! I've brought the boy." Oliver made a bow. 

" Oh ! that's the boy, is it ? " said the undertaker : 
raising the candle above his head, to get a better view of 
Oliver. "Mrs. Sowerberry ! will you have the goodness 
to come here a moment, my dear ? " 

Mrs. Sowerberry emerged from a little room behind 
the shop, and presented the form of a short, thin, 
squeezed-up woman, with a vixenish countenance. 

" My dear," said Mr. Sowerberry, deferentially, " this 
is the boy from the workhouse that I told you of" Ol- 
iver bowed again. 

" Dear me ! " said the undertaker's wife, " he's very 

" Why, he is rather small," replied Mr. Bumble: look- 
ing at Oliver as if it were his fault that he was no bigger; 


"he IS small. There's no denying it. But he'll grow, 
Mrs. Sowerberry — he'll grow." 

" Ah ! I dare say he will," replied the lady pettishly, 
" on our victuals and our drink. I see no saving in par- 
ish children, not I ; for they always cost more to keep, 
than they're worth. However, men always think they 
know best. There ! Get down-stairs, little bag o' bones." 
With this, the undertaker's wife opened a side-door and 
pushed Oliver down a steep flight of stairs into a stone 
cell, damp and dark : forming the anteroom to the coal- 
cellar, and denominated " the kitchen : " wherein sat a 
slatternly girl, in shoes down at heel, and blue worsted 
stockings very much out of repair. 

" Here, Charlotte," said Mrs. Sowerberry, who had 
followed Oliver down, " give this boy some of the cold 
bits that were put by for Trip. He hasn't come home 
since the morning, so he may go without 'em. I dare 
say the boy isn't too dainty to eat 'em, — are you, boy?" 
Oliver, whose eyes had ghstened at the mention of 
meat, and who was trembling with eagerness to devour 
it, replied in the negative ; and a plateful of coarse broken 
victuals was set before him. 

I wish some well-fed philosopher, whose meat and 
drink turn to gall within him, whose blood is ice, whose 
heart is iron, could have seen Oliver Twist clutching at 
the dainty viands that the dog had neglected. I wish he 
could have witnessed the horrible avidity with which Ol- 
iver tore the bits asunder with all the ferocity of famine. 
There is only one thing I should like better ; and that 
would be to see the Philosopher making the same sort 
of meal himself, with the same relish. 

" Well," said the undertaker's wife, when Oliver had 
finished his supper: which she had regarded in silent 


horror, and with fearful auguries of his future appetite : 
" have you done ? " 

There being nothing eatable within his reach, Oliver 
replied in the affirmative. 

" Then come with me," said Mrs. Sowerberry : taking 
up a dim and dirty lamp, and leading the way up-stairs ; 
" your bed's under the counter. You don't mind sleeping 
among the coffins, I suppose ? But it doesn't much mat- 
ter whether you do or don't, for you can't sleep anywhere 
else. Come, don't keep me here all night ! " 

Oliver lingered no longer, but meekly followed his new 




Oliver being left to himself in the undertaker's shop, 
set the lamp down on a workman's bench, and gazed 
timidly about him with a feeling of awe and dread, which 
many people a good deal older than he will be at no loss 
to understand. An unfinished coffin on black trestles, 
which stood in the middle of the shop, looked so gloomy 
and deathlike that a cold tremble came over him, every 
time his eyes wandered in the direction of the dismal 
object ; from which he almost expected to see some 
frightful form slowly rear its head, to drive him mad 
with terror. Against the wall were ranged, in regular 
array, a long row of elm boards cut into the same shape ; 
looking in the dim light, like high-shouldered ghosts with 
their hands in their breeches-pockets. Coffin-plates, elm- 
chips, bright-headed nails, and shreds of black cloth, lay 
scattered on the floor : and the wall behind the counter 
was ornamented with a lively representation of two 
mutes in very stiff neckcloths, on duty at a large pri- 
vate door, with a hearse di-awn by four black steeds, 
approaching in the distance. The shop was close and 
hot ; and the atmosphere seemed tainted with the smell 


of coffins. The recess beneath the counter in which his 
flock mattress was thrust, looked like a grave. 

Nor were these the only dismal feelings which de- 
pressed Oliver. He was alone in a strange place ; and 
we all know how chilled and desolate the best of us will 
sometimes feel in such a situation. The boy had no 
friends to care for, or to care for him. The regret of 
no recent separation was fresh in his mind ; the absence 
of no loved and well-remembered face sunk heavily into 
his heart. But his heart was heavy, notwithstanding ; 
and he wished, as he crept into his narrow bed, that 
that were his coffin ; and that he could be laid in a calm 
and lasting sleep in the churchyard ground, with the tall 
grass Avaving gently above his head, and the sound of the 
old deep bell to soothe him in his sleep. 

Oliver was awakened in the morning, by a loud kick- 
ing at the outside of the shop-door : which before he 
could huddle on his clothes, was repeated, in an angry 
and impetuous manner, about twenty-five times. When 
he began to undo the chain, the legs desisted, and a voice 

" Open the door, will yer ? " cried the voice which be- 
longed to the legs which had kicked at the door. 

" I will, directly, sir," replied Oliver : undoing the 
chain, and turning the key. 

"I suppose yer the new boy, aVt yer?" said the 
voice through the keyhole. 

" Yes, sir," replied Oliver. 

" How old are yer ? " inquired the voice. 

" Ten, sir," replied Oliver. 

" Then, I'll whop yer when I get in," said the voice ; 
" you just see if I don't, that's all, my work'us brat ! " 
and having made this obliging promise, the voice began 
to whistle. 


Oliver had been too often subjected to the process to 
which the very expressive monosyllable just recorded 
bears reference, to entertain the smallest doubt that the 
owner of the voice, whoever he might be, would redeem 
his pledge, most honorably. He drew back the bolts 
with a trembling hand, and opened the door. 

For a second or two, Oliver glanced up the street, and 
down the street, and over the way : impressed with the 
belief that the unknown, who had addressed him through 
the keyhole, had walked a few paces off, to warm himself; 
for nobody did he see but a big 'charity -boy, sitting on a 
post in front of the house, eating a slice of bread and but- 
ter; which he cut into wedges, the size of his mouth, with 
a clasp-knife, and then consumed with great dexterity. 

" I beg your pardon, sir," said Oliver, at length ; see- 
ing that no other visitor made his appearance ; " did you 

" I kicked," rephed the charity-boy. 

*' Did you want a coffin, sir ? " inquired Oliver, inno- 

At this, the charity -boy looked monstrous fierce ; and 
said that Oliver would want one before long, if he cut 
jokes with his superiors in that way. 

"Yer don't know who I am, I suppose, Work'us?" 
said the charity-boy, in continuation : descendmg from 
the top of the post, meanwhile, with edifying gravity. 

" No, sir," rejoined Oliver. 

"I'm Mister Noah Claypole," said the charity -boy, 
"and you're under me. Take down the shutters, yer 
idle young ruffian ! " With this Mr. Claypole adminis- 
tered a kick to Oliver, and entered the shop with a 
dignified air, which did him great credit. It is difficult 
for a large-headed, small-eyed youth, of lumbering make 


and heavy countenance, to look dignified under any cir- 
cumstances ; but it is more especially so, when super- 
added to these personal attractions are a red nose and 
yellow smalls. 

Oliver, having taken down the shutters, and broken a 
pane of glass in his efforts to stagger away beneath the 
weight of the first one to a small court at the side of the 
house in which they were kept during the day, was 
graciously assisted by Noah : who having consoled him 
with the assurance that "he'd catch it," condescended 
to help him. Mr. Sowerberry came down soon after. 
Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Sowerberry appeared ; and 
Oliver having " caught it," in fulfilment of Noah's pre- 
diction, followed that young gentleman down-stairs to 

" Come near the fire, Noah," said Charlotte. " I saved 
a nice little bit of bacon for you from master's breakfast. 
OHver, shut that door at Mister Noah's back, and take 
them bits that I've put out on the cover of the bread- 
pan. There's your tea ; take it away to that box, and 
drink it there, and make haste, for they'll want you to 
mind the shop. D'ye hear ? " 

" D'ye hear, Work'us ? " said Noah Claypole. 

" Lor' Noah ! " said Charlotte, " what a rum creature 
you are ! Why don't you let the boy alone ? " 

" Let him alone ! " said Noah. " Why everybody lets 
him alone enough, for the matter of that. Neither his 
father nor his mother will ever interfere with him. All 
his relations let him have his own way pretty well. Eh, 
Charlotte ! He ! he ! he ! " 

"Oh, you queer soul!" said Charlotte, bursting into a 
hearty laugh, in which she was joined by Noah ; after 
which, they both looked scornfully at poor Oliver Twist, 


as he sat shivering on the box in the coldest corner of 
the room, and ate the stale pieces which had been spe- 
cially reserved for him. 

Noah was a charity-boy, but not a workhouse orphan. 
No chance-child was he, for he could trace his genealogy 
all the way back to his parents, who lived hard by ; his 
mother being a washer-woman, and his father a drunken 
soldier, discharged with a wooden leg, and a diurnal pen- 
sion of twopence half-penny and an unstateable fraction. 
The shop-boys in the neighborhood had long been in the 
habit of branding Noah, in the public streets, with the 
ignominious epithets of " leathers," " charity," and the 
like; and Noah had borne them without reply. But, 
now that fortune had cast in his way a nameless orphan, 
at whom even the meanest could point the finger of 
scorn, he retorted on him with interest. This affords 
charming food for contemplation. It shows us what a 
beautiful thing human nature may be made to be : and 
how impartially the same amiable qualities are developed 
in the finest lord and the dirtiest charity-boy. 

Oliver had been sojourning at the undertaker's some 
three weeks or a month. Mr. and Mrs. Sowerberry — 
the shop being shut up — were taking their supper in 
the little back-parlor, when Mr. Sowerberry, after sev- 
eral deferential glances at his wife, said, — 

"My dear" — He was going to say more ; but, Mrs. 
Sowerberry looking up, with a peculiarly unpropitious 
aspect, he stopped short. 

" Well," said Mrs. Sowerberry, sharply. 

" Nothing, my dear, nothing," said Mr. Sower- 

" Ugh, you brute ! " said Mrs. Sowerberry. 

" Not at all, my dear," said Mr. Sowerberry humbly. 


"I thought you didn't want to hear, my dear. I was 
only going to say " 

" Oh, don't tell me what you were going to say," inter- 
posed Mrs. Sowerberry. "I am nobody; don't consult 
me, pray. / don't want to intrude upon your secrets." 
As Mrs. Sowerberry said this, she gave an hysterical 
laugh, which threatened violent consequences. 

" But, my dear," said Sowerberry, " I want to ask 
your advice." 

" No, no, don't ask mine," replied Mrs. Sowerberry, in 
an affecting manner : " ask somebody else's." Here 
there was another hysterical laugh, wliich frightened Mr. 
Sowerberry very much. This is a very common and 
much-approved matrimonial course of treatment, which 
is often very effective. It at once reduced Mr. Sower- 
berry to begging, as a special favor, to be allowed to say 
what Mrs. Sowerberry was most curious to hear. After 
a short altercation of less than three quarters of an hour's 
duration, the permission was most graciously conceded. 

"It's only about young Twist, my dear," said Mr. 
Sowerberry. "A very good-looking boy, that, my 

" He need be, for he eats enough," observed the lady. 

" There's an expression of melancholy in his face, my 
dear," resumed Mr. Sowerberry, " which is very inter- 
esting. He would make a delightful mute, my love." 

Mrs. Sowerberry looked up with an expression of 
considerable wonderment. Mr. Sowerberry remarked 
it ; and without allowing time for any observation on the 
good lady's part, proceeded : 

"I don't mean a regular mute to attend grown-up 
people, my dear, but only for children's practice. It 
would be very new to have a mute in proportion, my 


dear. You may depend upon it, it would have a superb 

Mrs. Sowerbeny, who had a good deal of taste in the 
undertaking way, was much struck by the novelty of this 
idea ; but, as it would have been compromising her dig- 
nity to have said so, under existing circumstances, she 
merely inquired, with much sharpness, why such an ob- 
vious suggestion had not presented itself to her husband's 
mind before? Mr. Sowerberry rightly construed this, 
as an acquiescence in his proposition ; it was speedily 
determined, therefore, that Oliver should be at once ini- 
tiated into the mysteries of the trade ; and, with this 
view, that he should accompany his master on the very 
next occasion of his services being required. 

The occasion was not long in coming. Half an hour 
after breakfast next morning, Mr. Bumble entered the 
shop ; and supporting his cane against the counter, drew 
forth his large leathern pocket-book : from which he 
selected a small scrap of paper, which he handed over 
to Sowerberry. 

" Aha ! " said the undertaker, glancing over it with a 
lively countenance : "an order for a coffin, eh?" 

" For a coffin first, and a porochial funeral afterwards," 
replied Mr. Bumble, fastening the strap of the leathern 
pocket-book : which, like himself, was very corpulent. 

" Bay ton," said the undertaker, looking from the scrap 
of paper to Mr. Bumble. " I never heard the name 

Bumble shook his head, as he replied, " Obstinate peo- 
ple, Mr. Sowerberry ; very obstinate. Proud, too, I'm 
afraid, sir." 

" Proud, eh ? " exclaimed Mr. Sowerberry with a sneer. 
" Come, that's too much." 


" Oh, it's sickening," replied the beadle. " Antimonial, 
Mr. Sowerberry ! " 

" So it is," acquiesced the undertaker. 

" We only heard of the family the night before last," 
said the beadle ; " and we shouldn't have known any- 
thing about them then, only a woman who lodges in the 
same house made an application to the porochial commit- 
tee for them to send the porochial surgeon to see a woman 
as was very bad. He had gone out to dinner ; but his 
'prentice (which is a very clever lad) sent 'em some 
medicine in a blacking-bottle, oflP-hand." 

" Ah, there's promptness," said the undertaker. 

" Promptness, indeed ! " replied the beadle. " But 
what's the consequence ; what's the ungrateful behavior 
of these rebels, sir? Why, the husband sends back word 
that the medicine won't suit his wife's complaint, and so 
she shan't take it — says she shan't take it, sir ! Good, 
strong, wholesome medicine, as was given with great suc- 
cess to two Irish laborers and a coal-heaver, only a week 
before — sent 'em for nothing, with a blackin'-bottle in, 
— and he sends back word that she shan't take it, sir ! " 

As the atrocity presented itself to Mr. Bumble's mind 
in full force, he struck the counter sharply with his cane, 
and became flushed with indignation. 

"Well," said the undertaker, "Ine — ver — did" 

" Never did, sir ! " ejaculated the beadle. " No, nor 
nobody never did ; but, now she's dead, we've got to bury 
her ; and that's the direction ; and the sooner it's done, 
the better." 

Thus saying, Mr. Bumble put on his cocked-hat wrong 
side first, in a fever of parochial excitement ; and flounced 
out of the shop. 

" Why, he was so angry, Oliver, that he forgot even 


to ask after you ! " said Mr. Sowerberry, looking after 
the beadle as he strode down the street. 

" Yes, sir," replied Oliver, who had carefully kept him- 
self out of sight, during the interview ; and who was 
shaking from head to foot at the mere recollection of the 
sound of Mr. Bumble's voice. He needn't have taken 
the trouble to shrink from Mr. Bumble's glance, how- 
ever ; for that functionary, on whom the prediction of 
the gentleman in the white waistcoat had made a very 
strong impression, thought that now the undertaker had 
got Oliver upon trial the subject was better avoided, until 
such time as he should be firmly bound for seven years : 
and all danger of his being returned upon the hands of 
the parish should be thus effectually and legally over- 

" Well," said Mr. Sowerberry, taking up his hat, " the 
sooner this job is done, the better. Noah, look after the 
shop. Oliver, put on your cap, and come with me." 
Oliver obeyed, and followed his master on his profes- 
sional mission. 

They walked on, for some time, through the most 
crowded and densely inhabited part of the town ; and 
then, striking down a narrow street more dirty and mis- 
erable than any they had yet passed through, paused to 
look for the house which was the object of their search. 
The houses on either side were high and large, but very 
old, and tenanted by people of the poorest class : as their 
neglected appearance would have sufficiently denoted, 
without the concurrent testimony afforded by the squalid 
looks of the few men and women who, with folded arms 
and bodies half doubled, occasionally skulked along. A 
great many of the tenements had shop-fronts ; but these 
were fast closed, and mouldering away : only the upper 


rooms being inhabited. Some houses wliicli had become 
insecure from age and decay, were prevented from fall- 
ing into the street, by huge beams of wood reared against 
the walls, and firmly planted in the road ; but, even these 
crazy dens seemed to have been selected as the nightly 
haunts of some houseless wretches, for many of the 
rough boards, which supphed the place of door and win- 
dow, were wrenched from their positions, to afford an 
apertuie wide enough for the passage of a human body. 
The kennel was stagnant and filthy. The very rats, 
which here and there lay putrefying in its rottenness, 
were hideous with famine. 

There was neither knocker nor bell-handle at the open 
door where Oliver and his master stopped ; so, groping 
his way cautiously through the dark passage, and bid- 
ding Oliver keep close to him and not be afraid, the 
undertaker mounted to the top of the first flight of stairs. 
Stumbling against a door on the landing, he rapped at it 
with his knuckles. 

It was opened by a young girl of thirteen or fourteen. 
The undertaker at once saw enough of what the room 
contained, to know it was the apartment to which he had 
been directed. He stepped in ; Oliver followed him. 

There was no fire in the room ; but a man was crouch- 
ing, mechanically, over the empty stove. An old woman, 
too, had drawn a low stool to the cold hearth, and was 
sitting beside him. There were some ragged children in 
another comer ; and in a small recess, opposite the door, 
there lay upon the ground, something covered with an 
old blanket. Oliver shuddered as he cast his eyes to- 
wards the place, and crept involuntarily closer to his 
master ; for though it was covered up, the boy felt that 
it was a corpse. 


The man's face was thin and very pale ; his hair and 
beard were grizzly ; his eyes were bloodshot. The old 
woman's face was wrinkled; her two remaining teeth 
protruded over her underlip ; and her eyes were bright 
and piercing. Oliver was afraid to look at either her 
or the man. They seemed so like the rats he had seen 

" Nobody shall go near her," said the man, starting 
fiercely up, as the undertaker approached the recess. 
" Keep back ! d — n you, keep back, if you've a life 
to lose ! " 

" Nonsense, my good man," said the undertaker, who 
was pretty well used to misery in all its shapes. " Non- 


" I tell you," said the man : clenching his hands, and 
stamping furiously on the floor, — "I tell you I won't 
have her put into the ground. She couldn't rest there. 
The worms would worry her — not eat her — she is so 
worn away." 

The undertaker offered no reply to this raving ; but, 
producing a tape from his pocket, knelt down for a mo- 
ment by the side of the body. 

" Ah ! " said the man : bursting into tears, and sinking 
on his knees at the feet of the dead woman ; " kneel down, 
kneel down — kneel round her, every one of you, and 
mark my words ! I say she was starved to death. I 
never knew how bad she was, till the fever came upon 
her ; and then her bones were starting through the skin. 
There was neither fire nor candle ; she died in the dark 

in the dark ! She couldn't even see her children's 

faces, though we heard her gasping out their names. I 
begged for her in the streets; and they sent me to 
prison. When I came back, she was dying ; and all the 


blood in my heart has dried up, for they starved her to 
death. I swear it before the God that saw it ! They 
starved her ! " He twined his hands in his hair ; and, 
with a loud scream, rolled grovelling upon the floor : his 
eyes fixed, and the foam covering his lips. 

The terrified children cried bitterly ; but the old 
woman, who had hitherto remained as quiet as if she 
had been wholly deaf to all that passed, menaced them 
into silence. Having unloosed the cravat of the man 
who still remained extended on the ground, she tottered 
towards the undertaker. 

" She was my daughter," said the old woman, nodding 
her head in the direction of the corpse ; and speaking 
with an idiotic leer, more ghastly than even the presence 
of death in such a place. " Lord, Lord ! Well, it is 
strange that I who gave birth to her, and was a woman 
then, should be alive and merry now, and she lying there : 
so cold and stiff ! Lord, Lord ! — to think of it ; — it's 
as good as a play — as good as a play ! " 

As the wretched creature mumbled and chuckled in 
her hideous merriment, the undertaker turned to go 

" Stop, stop ! " said the old woman in a loud whisper. 
" Will she be buried to-morrow, or next day, or to-night ? 
I laid her out ; and I must walk, you know. Send me a 
large cloak : a good waim one : for it is bitter cold. We 
should have cake and wine, too, before we go ! Never 
mind ; send some bread — only a loaf of bread and a 
cup of water. Shall we have some bread, dear ? " she 
said eagerly : catching at the undertaker's coat, as he 
once more moved towards the door. 

" Yes, yes," said the undertaker, " of course. Any- 
thing you like I " He disengaged himself from the old 


woman's grasp : and, drawing Oliver after him, hurried 

The next day, (the family having been meanwhile 
relieved with a half-quartern loaf and a piece of cheese : 
left with them by Mr. Bumble himself,) Oliver and his 
master returned to the miserable abode ; where Mr. 
Bumble had already arrived, accompanied by four men 
from the workhouse, who were to act as bearers. An 
old black cloak had been thrown over the rags of the old 
woman and the man ; and the bare coffin having been 
screwed down, was hoisted on the shoulders of the bear- 
ers, and carried into the street. 

" Now, you must put your best leg foremost, old lady ! " 
whispered Sowerberry in the old woman's ear ; " we are 
rather late ; and it won't do to keep the clergyman 
waiting. Move on, my men, — as quick as you like ! " 

Thus directed, the bearers trotted on under their light 
burden ; and the two mourners kept as near them as they 
could. Mr. Bumble and Sowerberry walked at a good 
smart pace in front ; and Oliver, whose legs were not so 
long as his master's, ran by the side. 

There ^vas not so great a necessity for hurrying as 
Mr. Sowerberry had anticipated, however; for when 
they reached the obscure corner of the churchyard in 
w^hich the nettles grew, and w'here the parish-graves 
were made, the clergyman had not arrived ; and the 
clerk, who was sitting by the vestry-room fire, seemed 
to think it by no means improbable that it might be an 
hour or so, before he came. So, they put the bier on 
the brink of the grave ; and the two mourners waited 
patiently in the damp clay, with a cold rain drizzling 
down, while the ragged boys, whom the spectacle had 
attracted into the churchyard, played a noisy game at 


hide-and-seek among the tombstones : or varied their 
amusements hj jumping backwards and forwards over 
the coffin. Mr. Sowerberry and Bumble, being personal 
friends of the clerk, sat by the fire with him, and read 
the paper. 

At length, after a lapse of something more than an 
hour, Mr. Bumble, and Sowerberry, and the clerk, were 
seen running towards the grave. Immediately after- 
wards the clergyman appeared : putting on his surplice 
as he came along. Mr. Bumble then thrashed a boy 
or two, to keep up appearances ; and the reverend gen- 
tleman, having read as much of the burial-service as 
could be compressed into four minutes, gave his surplice 
to the clerk, and walked away again. 

" Now, Bill ! " said Sowerberry to the grave-digger, 
"fill up!" 

It was no very difficult task ; for the grave was so 
full, that the uppermost coffin was within a few feet of 
the surface. The grave-digger shovelled in the earth; 
stamped it loosely down with his feet : shouldered his 
spade, and walked off, followed by the boys : who mur- 
mured very loud complaints at the fiin being over so 

" Come, my good fellow ! " said Bumble, tapping the 
man on the back. " They want to shut up the yard." 

The man, who had never once moved, since he had 
taken his station by the grave-side, started, raised his 
head, stared at the person who had addressed him, walked 
forward for a few paces, and fell down in a swoon. The 
crazy old woman was too much occupied in bewailing 
the loss of her cloak (which the undertaker had taken 
off), to pay him any attention ; so they threw a can of 
cold water over him ; and when he came to, saw him 


safely out of the churchyard, locked the gate, and de- 
parted on their different ways. 

" Well, Oliver," said Sowerberry, as they walked home, 
" how do you like it ? " 

" Pretty well, thank you, sir," replied Oliver, with con- 
siderable hesitation. " Not very much, sir." 

" Ah, you'll get used to it in time, Oliver," said Sower- 
berry. " Nothing when you are used to it, my boy." 

Oliver wondered, in his own mind, whether it had taken 
a very long time to get Mr. Sowerberry used to it. But 
he thought it better not to ask the question ; and walked 
back to the shop : thinking over all he had seen and 




The montli's trial over, Oliver was form all v appren- 
ticed. It was a nice sickly season just at this time. In 
commercial phrase, coffins were looking np ; and, in the 
course of a few weeks, Oliver had acquired a great deal 
of experience. The success of Mr. Sowerberry's in- 
genious speculation, exceeded even his most sanguine 
hopes. The oldest inhabitants recollected no period at 
which measles had been so prevalent, or so fatal to in- 
fant existence ; and many were the mournful processions 
which little Oliver headed, in a hat-band reaching down 
to his knees, to the indescribable admiration and emotion 
of all the mothers in the town. As Oliver accompanied his 
master in most of his adult expeditions, too, in order that 
he might acquire that equanimity of demeanor and full 
command of nerve which are so essential to a finished 
undertaker, he had many opportunities of observing the 
beautiful resignation and fortitude with which some 
strong-minded people bear their trials and losses. 

For instance ; when Sowerberry had an order for the 
burial of some rich old lady or gentleman, who was sur- 
rounded by a great number of nephews and nieces, who 


had been perfectly inconsolable during the previous ill- 
ness, and whose grief had been wholly irrepressible even 
on the most public occasions, they would be as happy 
among themselves as need be — quite cheerful and 
contented: conversing together with as much freedom 
and gayety, as if nothing whatever had happened to 
disturb them. Husbands, too, bore the loss of their 
wives with the most heroic calmness. Wives, again, put 
on weeds for their husbands, as if, so far from grieving 
in the garb of sorrow, they had made up their minds 
to render it as becoming and attractive as possible. It 
was observable, too, that ladies and gentlemen who were 
in passions of anguish during the ceremony of inter- 
ment, recovered almost as soon as they reached home, 
and became quite composed before the tea-drinking was 
over. All this was very pleasant and improving to see ; 
and Oliver beheld it with great admiration. 

That Oliver Twist was moved to resignation by the 
example of these good people, I cannot, although I am 
his biographer, undertake to affirm with any degree of 
confidence ; but I can most distinctly say, that for many 
months he continued meekly to submit to the domination 
and ill-treatment of Noah Claypole : who used him far 
worse than before, now that his jealousy was roused by 
seeing the new boy promoted to the black stick and hat- 
band, while he, the old one, remained stationary in the 
muffin-cap and leathers. Charlotte treated him badly, 
because Noah did ; and Mrs. Sowerberry was his de- 
cided enemy, because Mr. Sowerberry was disposed to 
be his friend ; so, between these three on one side, and 
a glut of funerals on the other, Oliver was not alto- 
gether as comfortable as the hungry pig was when he 
was shut up, by mistake, in the grain department of a 


And now, I come to a very important passage in Ol- 
iver's history ; for I have to record an act, slight and 
unimportant perhaps in appearance, but which indirectly 
produced a most material change in all his future pros- 
pects and proceedings. 

One day, Oliver and Noah had descended into the 
kitchen at the usual dinner-hour, to banquet upon a 
small joint of mutton — a pound and a half of the 
worst end of the neck — when Charlotte being called 
out of the way, there ensued a brief interval of time, 
which Noah Claypole, being hungry and vicious, con- 
sidered he could not possibly devote to a worthier 
purpose than aggravating and tantalizing young Oliver 

Intent upon this innocent amusement, Noah put his 
feet on the table-cloth; and pulled Oliver's hair; and 
twitched his ears; and expressed his opinion that he 
was a " sneak ; " and furthermore announced his inten- 
tion of coming to see him hanged, whenever that desir- 
able event should take place ; and entered upon various 
other topics of petty annoyance, like a malicious and 
ill-conditioned charity-boy as he was. But, none of 
these taunts producing the desired effect of making Ol- 
iver cry, Noah attempted to be more facetious still ; and 
in this attempt, did what many small wits, with far 
greater reputations than Noah, sometimes do to this 
day, when they want to be funny. He got rather 

" Work'us," said Noah, " how's your mother ? " 

" She's dead," replied Oliver ; " don't you say any- 
thing about her to me ! " 

Oliver's color rose as he said this ; he breathed quick- 
ly ; and there was a curious working of the mouth and 


nostrils, which Mr. Claypole thought must be the imme- 
diate precursor of a violent fit of crying. Under this 
impression he returned to the charge. 

" What did she die of, Work'us ? " said Noah. 

" Of a broken heart, some of our old nurses told me," 
replied Oliver: more as if he were talking to himself, 
than answering Noah. " I think I know what it must 
be to die of that ! " 

"Tol de rol lol lol, right fol lairy, Work'us," said 
Noah, as a tear rolled down Oliver's cheek. " What's 
set you a-snivelling now?" 

" Not you,'' replied Oliver, hastily brushing the tear 
away. " Don't think it." 

" Oh, not me, eh ? " sneered Noah. 

"No, not you," replied OHver, sharply. "There; 
that's enough. Don't say anything more to me about 
her; you'd better not!" 

'' Better not ! " exclaimed Noah. " Well ! Better not ! 
Work'us, don't be impudent. Your mother, too ! She 
was a nice 'un, she was. Oh, Lor' ! " And here, Noah 
nodded hi& head expressively; and curled up as much 
of his small red nose as muscular action could collect 
together, for the occasion. 

" Yer know, Work'us," continued Noah, emboldened 
by Oliver's silence, and speaking in a jeering tone of 
affected pity : of all tones the most annoying : " Yer 
know, Work'us, it carn't be helped now ; and of course 
yer couldn't help it then ; and I'm very sorry for it ; 
and I'm sure we all are, and pity yer very much. But 
yer must know, Work'us, yer mother was a regular 
right-down bad 'un." 

"What did you say?" inquired Oliver, looking up 
very quickly. 


"A regular right-down bad 'un, Work'us" replied 
Noah, coolly. " And it's a great deal better, Work'us, 
that she died when she did, or else she'd have been hard 
laboring in Bridewell, or transported, or hung : which is 
more likely than either, isn't it ? " 

Crimson with fury, Oliver started up ; overthrew the 
chair and table ; seized Noah by the throat ; shook him, 
in the violence of his rage, till his teeth chattered in his 
head; and, collecting his whole force into one heavy 
blow, felled him to the ground. 

A minute ago, the boy had looked the quiet, mild, 
dejected creature that harsh treatment had made him. 
But his spirit was roused at last ; the cruel insult to his 
dead mother had set his blood on fire. His breast 
heaved ; his attitude was erect ; his eye bright and vivid ; 
his whole person changed, as he stood glaring over the 
cowardly tormentor who now lay crouching at his feet ; 
and defied him with an energy he had never known 

" He'll murder me ! " blubbered Noah. " Charlotte ! 
missis ! Here's the new boy a-murdering of me ! Help ! 
help ! Oliver's gone mad ! Char — lotte ! " 

Noah's shouts were responded to, by a loud scream 
from Charlotte, and a louder from Mrs. Sowerberry ; the 
former of whom rushed into the kitchen by a side-door, 
while the latter paused on the staircase till she was quite 
certain that it was consistent with the preservation of 
human life, to come farther down. 

" Oh, you httle wretch ! " screamed Charlotte ; seizing 
Oliver with her utmost force, which was about equal to 
that of a moderately strong man in particularly good 
training. " Oh, you little un-grate-ful, mur-de-rous, hor- 
rid villain ! " And between every syllable, Charlotte 


gave Oliver a blow with all her might : accompanying 
it with a scream, for the benefit of society. 

Charlotte's fist was by no means a light one; but, lest 
it should not be effectual in calming Oliver's wrath, Mrs. 
Sowerberry plunged into the kitchen, and assisted to 
hold him with one hand, while she scratched his face 
with the other. In this favorable position of affairs, 
Noah rose from the ground : and pommelled him behind. 

This was rather too violent exercise to last long. 
When they were all three wearied out, and could tear 
and beat no longer, they dragged Oliver, struggling and 
shouting, but nothing daunted, into the dust-cellar, and 
there locked him up. This being done, Mrs. Sowerberry 
sunk into a chair, and burst into tears. 

"Bless her, she's going off!" said Charlotte. "A 
glass of water, Noah, dear. Make haste ! " 

" Oh ! Charlotte," said Mrs. Sowerberry : speaking as 
well as she could, through a deficiency of breath, and a 
sufficiency of cold water, which Noah had poured over 
her head and shoulders. " Oh ! Charlotte, what a mercy 
we have not all been murdered in our beds ! " 

" Ah ! mercy indeed, ma'am," was the reply. " I only 
hope this '11 teach master not to have any more of 
these dreadful creatur's, that are born to be murderers 
and robbers from their very cradle. Poor Noah ! He 
was all but killed, ma'am, when I come in." 

" Poor fellow ! " said Mrs. Sowerberry : looking pite- 
ously on the charity-boy. 

Noah: whose top waistcoat-button might have been 
somewhere on a level with the crown of Oliver's head : 
rubbed his eyes with the inside of his wrists while this 
commiseration was bestowed upon him, and performed 
some affecting tears and sniffs. 


" "What's to be done ! " exclaimed Mrs. Sowerberry. 
" Your master's not at home ; there's not a man in the 
house ; and he'll kick that door down, in ten minutes.'* 
Oliver's vigorous plunges against the bit of timber in 
question, rendered this occurrence highly probable. 

" Dear, dear ! I don't know, ma'am," said Charlotte, 
" unless we send for the police-officers." 

" Or the millingtarj," suggested Mr. Claypole. 

" No, no," said Mrs. Sowerberrj ; bethinking herself 
of Oliver's old friend. " Run to Mr. Bumble, Noah, and 
tell him to come here directly, and not to lose a minute ; 
never mind your cap ! Make haste ! You can hold a 
knife to that black eye, as you run along. It '11 keep the 
swelling down." 

Noah stopped to make no reply, but started off at his 
fullest speed ; and very much it astonished the people 
who were out walking, to see a charity -boy tearing 
through the streets pell-mell, with no cap on his head, 
and a clasp-knife at his eye. 




Noah Claypole ran along the streets at his swiftest 
pace, and paused not once for breath, until he reached 
the workhouse-gate. Having rested here, for a minute 
or so, to collect a good burst of sobs and an imposing 
show of tears and terror, he knocked loudly at the 
wicket; and presented such a rueful face to the aged 
pauper who opened it, that even he, who saw nothing 
but rueful faces about him at the best of times, started 
back in astonishment. 

" Why, what's the matter with the boy ! " said the old 

" Mr. Bumble ! Mr. Bumble ! " cried Noah, with well- 
affected dismay : and in tones so loud and agitated, that 
they not only caught the ear of Mr. Bumble himself, 
who happened to be hard by, but alarmed him so much 
that he rushed into the yard without his cocked-hat, — 
which is a very curious and remarkable circumstance : 
as showing that even a beadle, acted upon by a sudden 
and powerful impulse, may be afflicted with a momen- 
tary visitation of loss of self-possession and forgetfulness 
of personal dignity. 

" Oh, Mr. Bumble, sir ! " said Noah : " Oliver, sir — 
Oliver has " 

"What? What?" interposed Mr. Bumble: with a 


gleam of pleasure in his metallic eyes. " Not run away ; 
he hasn't run away, has he, Noah ? " 

" No, sir, no. Not run away, sir, but he's turned 
wicious," replied Noah. " He tried to murder me, sir ; 
and then he tried to murder Charlotte ; and then missis. 
Oh ! what dreadful pain it is ! Such agony, please, sir!" 
And here, Noah writhed and twisted his body into an 
extensive variety of eel-like positions ; thereby giving 
Mr. Bumble to understand that, from the violent and 
sanguinary onset of Oliver Twist, he had sustained 
severe internal injury and damage, from which he was, 
at that moment, suffering the acutest torture. 

When Noah saw that the intelligence he commu- 
nicated perfectly paralyzed Mr. Bumble, he imparted 
additional effect thereunto, by bewailing his dreadful 
wounds ten times louder than before ; and, when he 
observed a gentleman in a white waistcoat crossing the 
yard, he was more tragic in his lamentations than ever : 
rightly conceiving it highly expedient to attract the no- 
tice, and rouse the indignation, of the gentleman aforesaid. 

The gentleman's notice was very soon attracted ; for 
he had not walked three paces, when he turned angrily 
round, and inquired what that young cur was howling 
for ; and why Mr. Bumble did not favor him with some- 
thing which would render the series of vocular exclama- 
tions so designated an involuntary process. 

" It's a poor boy from the free-school, sir," replied Mr. 
Bumble, " who has been nearly murdered — all but mur- 
dered, sir, — by young Twist." 

" By Jove ! " exclaimed the gentleman in the white 
waistcoat, stopping short. " I knew it ! I felt a strange 
presentiment from the very first, that that audacious 
young savage would come to be hung!" 


" He has likewise attempted, sir, to murder the female 
servant," said Mr. Bumble, with a face of ashy paleness. 

" And his missis," interposed Mr. Claypole. 

"And his master, too, I think you said, Noah?" 
added Mr. Bumble. 

" No ; he's out, or he would have murdered him," re- 
plied Noah. " He said he wanted to." 

" Ah ! Said he wanted to : did he, my boy ? " in- 
quired the gentleman in the white waistcoat. 

" Yes, sir," replied Noah. " And please, sir, missis 
wants to know whether Mr. Bumble can spare time to step 
up there, directly, and flog him — 'cause master's out." 

" Certainly, my boy ; certainly," said the gentleman 
in the white waistcoat : smiling benignly, and patting 
Noah's head, which was about three inches higher than 
his own. "You're a good boy — a very good boy. Here's 
a penny for you. Bumble, just step up to Sowerberry's 
with your cane, and see what's best to be done. Don't 
spare him. Bumble." 

" No, I will not, sir," replied the beadle : adjusting the 
wax-end which was twisted round the bottom of his cane, 
for purposes of parochial flagellation. 

" Tell Sowerberry not to spare him either. They'll 
never do anything with him, without stripes and bruises," 
said the gentleman in the white waistcoat. 

" I'll take care, sir," replied the beadle. And the 
cocked-hat and cane having been, by this time, adjusted 
to their owner's satisfaction, Mr. Bumble and Noah Clay- 
pole betook themselves with all speed to the undertaker's 

Here, the position of affairs had not at all improved. 
Sowerberry had not yet returned, and Oliver continued 
to kick, with undiminished vigor, at the cellar-door. The 


accounts of his ferocity, as related by Mrs. Sowerberry 
and Charlotte, were of so startling a nature, that Mr. 
Bumble judged it prudent to parley, before opening the 
door. With this view, he gave a kick at the outside, by 
way of prelude ; and then, applying his mouth to the 
key-hole, said, in a deep and impressive tone : 

" Oliver ! " 

" Come ; you let me out ! " repHed Oliver, from the 

" Do you know this here voice, Oliver ? " said Mr. 

" Yes," replied Oliver. 

" A'n't you afraid of it, sir ? A'n't you a-trembling 
while I speak, sir ? " said Mr. Bumble. 

" No," replied Oliver boldly. 

An answer so different from the one he had expected 
to elicit, and was in the habit of receiving, staggered Mr. 
Bumble not a httle. He stepped back from the key- 
hole; drew himself up to his full height; and looked from 
one to another of the three bystanders, in mute astonish- 

" Oh, you know, Mr. Bumble, he must be mad," said 
Mrs. Sowerberry. " No boy in half his senses could 
venture to speak so to you." 

" It's not Madness, ma'am," replied Mr. Bumble, after 
a few moments of deep meditation. " It's Meat." 

" What ? " exclaimed Mrs. Sowerberry. 

" Meat, ma'am, meat," replied Bumble, with stern em- 
phasis, " You've overfed him, ma'am. You've raised a 
artificial soul and spirit in him, ma'am, unbecoming a 
person of his condition : as the board, Mrs. Sower- 
berry, who are practical philosophers, will tell you. 
What have paupers to do with soul or spirit ? It's quite 


enough that we let 'em have live bodies. If you had 
kept the boy on gruel, ma'am, this would never have 

" Dear, dear ! " ejaculated Mrs. Sowerberry, piously 
raising her eyes to the kitchen ceiling : '' this comes of 
being liberal ! " 

The liberality of Mrs. Sowerberry to Oliver, had con- 
sisted in a profuse bestowal upon him of all the dirty 
odds and ends which nobody else would eat ; so, there 
was a great deal of meekness and self-devotion in her 
voluntarily remaining under Mr. Bumble's heavy accu- 
sation : of which, to do her justice, she was wholly in- 
nocent, in thought, word, or deed. 

" Ah ! " said Mr. Bumble, when the lady brought her 
eyes down to earth again ; " the only thing that can be 
done now, that I know of, is to leave him in the cellar 
for a day or so, till he's a little starved down ; and then 
to take him out, and keep him on gruel all through his 
apprenticeship. He comes of a bad family. Excitable 
natures, Mrs. Sowerberry ! Both the nurse and doctor 
said, that that mother of his made her way here, against 
difficulties and pain that would have killed any well-dis- 
posed woman, weeks before." 

At this point of Mr. Bumble's discourse, OHver, just 
hearing enough to know that some new allusion was 
being made to his mother, recommenced kicking, with 
a violence that rendered every other sound inaudible. 
Sowerberry returned at this juncture. Oliver's offence 
having been explained to him, with such exaggerations 
as the ladies thought best calculated to rouse his ire, he 
unlocked the cellar-door in a twinkling, and dragged his 
rebellious apprentice out, by the collar. 

Oliver's clothes had been torn in the beating he had 


received ; his face was bruised and scratched ; and his 
hair scattered over his forehead. The angry flash had 
not disappeared, however ; and when he was pulled out 
of his prison, he scowled boldly on Noah, and looked 
quite undismayed. 

" Now, you are a nice young fellow, a'n't you ? " 
said Sowerberry j giving OUver a shake, and a box on 
the ear. 

" He called my mother names," rephed Oliver. 

" Well, and what if he did, you little ungrateful 
wretch?" said Mrs. Sowerberry. "She deserved what 
he said, and worse." 

" She didn't," said Oliver. 

" She did," said Mrs. Sowerberry. 

" It's a lie ! " said Oliver. 

Mrs. Sowerberry burst into a flood of tears. 

This flood of tears left Mr. Sowerberry no alternative. 
If he had hesitated for one instant to punish Oliver most 
severely, it must be quite clear to every experienced 
reader that he would have been, according to all prece- 
dents in disputes of matrimony established, a brute, an 
unnatural husband, an insulting creature, a base imi- 
tation of a man, and various other agreeable characters 
too numerous for recital within the limits of this chap- 
ter. To do him justice, he was, as far as his power 
went, — it was not very extensive, — kindly disposed 
towards the boy ; perhaps, because it was his inter- 
est to be so ; perhaps, because his wife disliked him. 
The flood of tears, however, left him no resource; so 
he at once gave him a drubbing, which satisfied even 
Mrs. Sowerberry herself; and rendered Mr. Bumble's 
subsequent application of the parochial cane, rather un- 
necessary. For the rest of the day, he was shut up in 


the back kitchen, in company with a pump and a slice 
of bread ; and, at night, Mrs. Sowerberry, after making 
various remarks outside the door, by no means compli- 
mentary to the memory of his mother, looked into the 
room, and, amidst the jeers and pointings of Noah and 
Charlotte, ordered him up-stairs to his dismal bed. 

It was not until he was left alone in the silence and 
stillness of the gloomy workshop of the undertaker, that 
Oliver gave way to the feelings which the day's treat- 
ment may be supposed likely to have awakened in a 
mere child. He had listened to their taunts with a look 
of contempt ; he had borne the lash without a cry : for 
he felt that pride swelling in his heart which would have 
kept down a shriek to the last, though they had roasted 
him alive. But now, when there were none to see or 
hear him, he fell upon his knees on the floor ; and, 
hiding his face in his hands, wept such tears as, God 
send for the credit of our nature, few so young may ever 
have cause to pour out before him ! 

For a long time, Oliver remained motionless in this 
attitude. The candle was burning low in the socket 
when he rose to his feet. Having gazed cautiously 
round him, and listened intently, he gently undid the 
fastenings of the door, and looked abroad. 

It was a cold, dark night. The stars seemed, to the 
boy's eyes, farther from the earth than he had ever seen 
them before ; there was no wind ; and the sombre shad- 
ows thrown by the trees upon the ground, looked sepul- 
chral and deathlike, from being so still. He softly 
reclosed the door. Having availed himself of the ex- 
piring light of the candle to tie up in a handkerchief the 
few articles of wearing apparel he had, sat himself down 
upon a bench, to wait for morning. 


With the first ray of Hght that struggled through the 
crevices in the shutters, Oliver arose, and again unbarred 
the door. One timid look around, — one moment's pause 
of hesitation, — he had closed it behind him, and was in 
the open street. 

He looked to the right and to the left, uncertain 
whither to fly. He remembered to have seen the 
wagons, as they went out, toiling up the hill. He took 
the same route ; and arriving at a footpath across the 
fields : which he knew, after some distance, led out again 
into the road : struck into it, and walked quickly on. 

Along this same footpath, Oliver well remembered he 
had trotted beside INIr. Bumble, when he first carried him 
to the workhouse from the farm. His way lay directly 
in front of the cottage. His heart beat quickly when he 
bethought himself of this ; and he half resolved to turn 
back. He had come a long way though, and should lose 
a great deal of time by doing so. Besides, it was so 
early that there was very little fear of his being seen ; 
so he walked on. 

He reached the house. There was no appearance of 
its inmates stirring at that early hour. Oliver stopped, 
and peeped into the garden. A child was weeding one 
of the httle beds ; as he stopped, he raised his pale face 
and disclosed the features of one of his former com- 
panions. Oliver felt glad to see him, before he went ; 
for, though younger than himself, he had been his little 
friend and playmate. They had been beaten, and starved, 
and shut up together, many and many a time. 

" Hush, Dick ! " said OUver, as the boy ran to the 
gate, and thrust his thin arm between the rails to greet 
him. " Is any one up ? " 

" Nobody but me," replied the child. 


" You mustn't say you saw me, Dick," said Oliver. 
" I am running away. They beat and ill-use me, Dick ; 
and I am going to seek my fortune, some long way off. 
I don't know where. How pale you are ! " 

" I heard the doctor tell them I was dying," repHed 
the child with a faint smile. " I am very glad to see 
you, dear ; but don't stop, don't stop ! " 

" Yes, yes, I will, to say good-b'ye to you," replied 
Oliver. " I shall see you again, Dick. I know I shall ! 
You will be well and happy ! " 

" I hope so," replied the child. " After I am dead, 
but not before. I know the doctor must be right, Oliver, 
because I dream so much of Heaven, and Angels, and 
kind faces that I never see when I am awake. Kiss 
me," said the child, climbing up the low gate, and fling- 
ing his little arms round Oliver's neck : " Good-b'ye, 
dear ! God bless you ! " 

The blessing was from a young child's lips, but it was 
the first that OHver had ever heard invoked upon his 
head ; and through the struggles and sufferings, and 
troubles and changes, of his after-Hfe, he never once 
forgot it. 




Oliver reached the stile at which the by-path termi- 
mated ; and once more gained the high-road. It was 
eight o'clock now. Though he was nearly five miles 
away from the town, he ran, and hid behind the hedges, 
by turns, till noon : fearing that he might be pursued and 
overtaken. Then he sat down to rest by the side of a 
mile-stone, and began to think, for the first time, where 
he had better go and try to live. 

The stone by which he was seated, bore, in large 
characters, an intimation that it was just seventy miles 
from that spot to London. The name awakened a new 
train of ideas in the boy's mind. London ! — that great 
large place ! — nobody — not even Mr. Bumble — could 
ever find him there ! He had often heard the old men 
in the workhouse, too, say that no lad of spirit need want 
in London ; and that there were ways of living in that 
vast city, which those who had been bred up in country 
parts had no idea of. It was the very place for a home- 
less boy, who must die in the streets unless some one 
helped him. As these things passed through his 
thoughts, he jumped upon his feet, and again walked 


He had diminished the distance between himself and 
London by full four miles more, before he recollected 
how much he must undergo ere he could hope to reach 
his place of destination. As this consideration forced 
itself upon him, he slackened his pace a little, and medi- 
tated upon his means of getting there. He had a crust 
of bread, a coarse shirt, and two pairs of stockings in 
his bundle. He had a penny too — a gift of Sower- 
berry's, after some funeral in which he had acquitted 
himself more than ordinarily well — in his pocket. " A 
clean shirt," thought Oliver, " is a very comfortable 
thing, very ; and so are two pairs of darned stockings ; 
and so is a penny ; but they are small helps to a sixty- 
five miles' walk in winter time." But Oliver's thoughts, 
like those of most other peoj)le, although they were ex- 
tremely ready and active to point out his difficulties, were 
wholly at a loss to suggest any feasible mode of sur- 
mounting them ; so after a good deal of thinking to no 
particular purpose, he changed his little bundle over to 
the other shoulder, and trudged on. 

Oliver walked twenty miles that day ; and all that 
time tasted nothing but the crust of dry bread, and a few 
draughts of water, which he begged at the cottage-doors 
by the roadside. When the night came, he turned into a 
meadow ; and, creeping close under a hayrick, determined 
to lie there till morning. He felt frightened at first ; for 
the wind moaned dismally over the empty fields ; and 
he was cold and hungry, and more alone than he had 
ever felt before. Being very tired with his walk, how- 
ever, he soon fell asleep and forgot his troubles. 

He felt cold and stiff, when he got up next morning, 
and so hungry, that he was obliged to exchange the penny 
for a small loaf, in the very first village through which 


he passed. He had walked no more than twelve miles, 
when night closed in again. His feet were sore, and his 
legs so weak that they trembled beneath him. Another 
night passed in the bleak damp air, made him worse ; 
when he set forward on his journey next morning, he 
could hardly crawl along. 

He waited at the bottom of a steep hill till a stage- 
coach came up, and then begged of the outside passen- 
gers ; but there were very few who took any notice of 
him ; and even those told him to wait till they got to the 
top of the hill, and then let them see how far he could 
run for a halfpenny. Poor Oliver tried to keep up with 
the coach a little way, but was unable to do it, by reason 
of his fatigue and sore feet. When the outsides saw 
this, they put their halfpence back into their pockets 
again : declaring that he was an idle young dog, and 
didn't deserve anything ; and the coach rattled away and 
left only a cloud of dust behind. 

In some villages, large painted boards were fixed up ; 
warning all persons who begged within the district, that 
they would be sent to jail. This frightened Oliver very 
much, and made him glad to get out of those villages 
with all possible expedition. In others, he would stand 
about the inn-yards, and look mournfully at every one 
who passed : a proceeding which generally terminated in 
the landlady's ordering one of the post-boys who were 
lounging about, to drive that strange boy out of the 
place, for she was sure he had come to steal something. 
If he begged at a farmer's house, ten to one but they 
threatened to set the dog on him ; and when he showed 
his nose in a shop, they talked about the beadle : which 
brought Ohver's heart into his mouth, — very often the 
only thing he had there, for many hours together. 


In fact, if it had not been for a good-hearted turnpike- 
man, and a benevolent old lady, Oliver's troubles would 
have been shortened by the very same i3rocess which 
had put an end to his mother's ; in other words, he 
would most assuredly have fallen dead upon the king's 
highway. But the turnpike-man gave him a meal of 
bread and cheese ; and the old lady, who had a ship- 
wrecked grandson wandering barefooted in some distant 
part of the earth, took pity upon the poor orphan ; and 
gave him what little she could afford — and more — with 
such kind and gentle words, and such tears of sympathy 
and compassion, that they sank deeper into Oliver's soul, 
than all the sufferings he had ever undergone. 

Early on the seventh morning after he had left his 
native place, Oliver limped slowly into the little town of 
Barnet. The window-shutters were closed; the street 
was empty ; not a soul had awakened to the business of 
the day. The sun was rising in all his splendid beauty ; 
but the light only served to show the boy his own lone- 
someness and desolation, as he sat, with bleeding feet 
and covered with dust, upon a cold door-step. 

By degrees, the shutters were opened; the window- 
blinds were drawn up ; and people began passing to and 
fro. Some few stopped to gaze at Oliver for a moment 
or two, or turned round to stare at him as they hurried 
by; but none relieved him, or troubled themselves to 
inquire how he came there. He had no heart to beg. 
And there he sat. 

He had been crouching on the step for some time : 
wondering at the great number of public-houses, (every 
other house in Barnet was a tavern, large or small:) 
gazing listlessly at the coaches as they passed through : 
and thinking how strange it seemed that they could do, 


with ease, in a few hours, what it had taken him a whole 
week of courage and determination beyond his years to 
accomphsh : when he was roused by observing that a boy, 
who had passed him carelessly some minutes before, had 
returned, and was now surveying him most earnestly from 
the opposite side of the way. He took httle heed of this 
at first ; but, the boy remained in the same attitude of 
close observation so long, that OHver raised his head, 
and returned his steady look. Upon this, the boy crossed 
over ; and, walking close up to Oliver, said, 

" Hullo ! my covey, what's the row ? " 

The boy who addressed this inquiry to the young 
wayfarer, was about his own age : but one of the queerest 
looking boys that Oliver had ever seen. He was a snub- 
nosed, flat-browed, common-faced boy enough; and as 
dirty a juvenile as one would wish to see ; but he had 
about him all the airs and manners of a man. He was 
short of his age : with rather bow legs, and little, sharp, 
ugly eyes. His hat was stuck on the top of his head so 
lightly, that it threatened to fall off every moment — 
and would have done so, very often, if the wearer had not 
had a knack of every now and then giving his head a 
sudden twitch: which brought it back to its old place 
again. He wore a man's coat, which reached nearly to 
his heels. He had turned the cuffs back, half-way up 
his arm, to get his hands out of the sleeves : apparently 
with the ultimate view of thrusting them into the pockets 
of his corduroy trousers ; for there he kept them. He 
was, altogether, as roystering and swaggering a young 
gentleman as ever stood four feet six, or something less, 
in his bluchers. 

" Hullo, my covey, what's the row ? " said this strange 
young gentleman to OHver. 


" I am very hungry and tired," replied Oliver : the 
tears standing in his eyes as he spoke. " I have 
walked a long way. I have been walking these seven 

" Walking for sivin days ! " said the young gentleman. 
" Oh, I see. Beak's order, eh ? But," he added, notic- 
ing Oliver's look of surprise, " I suppose you don't know 
what a beak is, my flash com-pan-i-on." 

Oliver mildly replied, that he had always heard a bird's 
mouth described by the term in question. 

" My eyes, how green ! " exclaimed the young gentle- 
man. " Why a beak's a madgst'rate ; and when you 
walk by a beak's order, it's not straight forerd, but al- 
ways a-going up, and niver a-coming down agin. Was 
you never on the mill ? " 

" What mill ? " inquired Oliver. 

" What mill ? — why, the mill — the mill as takes up 
so little room that it'll work inside a Stone Jug ; and al- 
ways goes better when the wind's low with people, than 
when it's high ; acos then they can't get workmen. But 
come," said the young gentleman ; " you want grub, and 
you shall have it. I'm at low-water-mark myself — only 
one bob and a magpie ; but, as far as it goes, I'll fork 
out and stump. Up with you on your pins. There ! 
Now then ! Morrice ! " 

Assisting Oliver to rise, the young gentleman took 
him to an adjacent chandler's shop, where he purchased 
a sufficiency of ready-dressed ham and a half-quartern 
loaf, or, as he himself expressed it, " a fourpenny bran ; " 
the ham being kept clean and preserved from dust, by 
the ingenious expedient of making a hole in the loaf by 
pulHng out a portion of the crumb, and stuffing it therein. 
Taking the bread under his arm, the young gentleman 


turned into a small public-house, and led the way to a 
tap-room in the rear of the premises. Here, a pot of 
beer was brought in, by direction of the mysterious 
youth ; and Ohver, falling to, at his new friend's bidding, 
made a long and hearty meal, during the progress of 
which, the strange boy eyed him from time to time with 
great attention. 

" Going to London ? " said the strange boy, when 
Oliver had at length concluded. 

" Yes." 

" Got any lodgings ? " 

" No." 

« Money ? " 

" No." 

The strange boy whistled ; and put his arms into 
his pockets, as far as the big coat-sleeves would let 
them go. 

" Do you live in London ? " inquired Oliver. 

" Yes. I do, when I'm at home," replied the boy. 
"I suppose you want some place to sleep in to-night, 
don't you?" 

" I do indeed," answered Oliver. " I have not slept 
under a roof since I left the country." 

" Don't fret your eyelids on that score," said the young 
gentleman. " I've got to be in London to-night ; and I 
know a 'spectable old genelman as lives there, wot '11 give 
you lodgings for nothink, and never ask for the change 
— that is, if any genelman he knows interduces you. 
And don't he know me? Oh, no! Not in the least ! 
By no means. Certainly not ! " 

The young gentleman smiled, as if to intimate that the 
latter fragments of discourse were playfully -ironical ; and 
finished the beer as he did so. 


This unexpected offer of shelter, was too tempting to 
be resisted : especially as it was immediately followed 
up, by the assurance that the old gentleman already 
referred to, would doubtless provide Oliver with a com- 
fortable place, without loss of time. This led to a more 
friendly and confidential dialogue ; from which Oliver 
discovered that his friend's name was Jack Dawkins, and 
that he was a peculiar pet and protege of the elderly 
gentleman before mentioned. 

Mr. Dawkins's appearance did not say a vast deal in 
favor of the comforts which his patron's interest obtained 
for those whom he took under his protection ; but, as he 
had a rather flighty and dissolute mode of conversing, 
and furthermore avowed that among his intimate friends 
he was better known by the sobriquet of " The artful 
Dodger," Oliver concluded that, being of a dissipated 
and careless turn, the moral precepts of his benefactor 
had hitherto been thrown away upon him. Under this 
impression, he secretly resolved to cultivate the good opin- 
ion of the old gentleman as quickly as possible ; and, if 
he found the Dodger incorrigible, as he more than half 
suspected he should, to decline the honor of his further 

As John Dawkins objected to their entering London 
before nightfall, it was nearly eleven o'clock when they 
reached the turnpike at Islington. They crossed from 
the Angel into St. John's road ; struck down the small 
street which terminates at Sadler's Wells Theatre ; 
through Exmouth-street and Coppice-row ; down the 
little court by the side of the workhouse ; across the 
classic ground which once bore the name of Hockley-in- 
the-Hole ; thence into Little Saffron-hill ; and so into 
Saffron-hill the Great : along which, the Dodger scudded 


at a rapid pace, directing Oliver to follow close at his 

Although Oliver had enough to occupy his attentiou 
in keeping sight of his leader, he could not help bestow- 
ing a few hasty glances on either side of the way, as he 
passed along. A dirtier or more wretched place he had 
never seen. The street was very narrow and muddy, 
and the air was impregnated with filthy odors. There 
were a good many small shops ; but the only stock in 
trade appeared to be heaps of children, who, even at 
that time of night, were crawling in and out at the doors, 
or screaming from the inside. The sole places that 
seemed to prosper, amid the general blight of the place, 
were the public-houses ; and in them, the lowest orders 
of Irish were wrangling with might and main. Covered 
ways and yards, which here and there diverged from 
the main street, disclosed httle knots of houses, where 
drunken men and women were positively wallowing 
in filth ; and from several of the door-ways, great ill- 
looking fellows were cautiously emerging : bound, to 
all appearance, on no very well-disposed or harmless 

Oliver was just considering whether he hadn't better 
run away, when they reached the bottom of the hill. 
His conductor, catching him by the arm, pushed open 
the door of a house near Field-lane ; and, drawing him 
into the passage, closed it behind them. 

" Now, then ! " cried a voice from below, in reply to a 
whistle from the Dodger. 

" Plummy and slam ! " was the reply. 

This seemed to be some watchword or signal that all 
was right ; for the light of a feeble candle gleamed on 
the wall at the remote end of the passage ; and a man's 


face peeped out, from where a balustrade of the old 
kitchen staircase had been broken away. 

" There's two on you," said the man, thrusting the 
candle farther out, and shading his eyes with his hand. 
" Who's the t'other one ? " 

" A new pal," replied Jack Dawkins, pulling Oliver 

" Where did he come from ? " 

" Greenland. Is Fagin up-stairs ? " 

" Yes, he's a-sortin' the wipes. Up with you ! " The 
candle was drawn back, and the face disappeared. 

Oliver, groping his way with one hand, and having 
the other firmly grasped by his companion, ascended 
with much difficulty the dark and broken stairs : which 
his conductor mounted with an ease and expedition that 
showed he was well acquainted with them. He threw 
open the door of a back-room, and drew Oliver in after 

The walls and ceiling of the room were perfectly 
black, with age and dirt. There was a deal table before 
the fire : upon which were a candle, stuck in a ginger- 
beer bottle : two or three pewter pots : a loaf and butter: 
and a plate. In a frying-pan, which was on the fire, and 
which was secured to the mantel-shelf by a string, some 
sausages were cooking ; and standing over them, with a 
toasting-fork in his hand, was a very old shrivelled Jew, 
whose villanous-looking and repulsive face was obscured 
by a quantity of matted red hair. He was dressed in a 
greasy flannel gown, with his throat bare ; and seemed 
to be dividing his attention between the frying-pan and a 
clothes-horse, over which a great number of silk hand- 
kerchiefs were hanging. Several rough beds made of 
old sacks, were huddled side by side on the floor. Seated 


round the table were four or five boys : none older than 
the Dodger : smoking long clay pipes, and drinking spir- 
its with the air of middle-aged men. These all crowded 
about their associate as he whispered a few words to the 
Jew ; and then turned round and grinned at Oliver. So 
did the Jew himself: toasting-fork in hand. 

" This is him, Fagin," said Jack Dawkins ; " my friend 
Oliver Twist." 

The Jew grinned ; and, making a low obeisance to 
Oliver, took him by the hand, and hoped he should have 
the honor of his intimate acquaintance. Upon this, the 
young gentlemen with the pipes came round him, and 
shook both his hands very hard — especially the one in 
which he held his little bundle. One young gentleman 
was very anxious to hang up his cap for him ; and 
another was so obliging as to put his hands in his pock- 
ets, in order that, as he was very tired, he might not have 
the trouble of emptying them, himself, when he went to 
bed. These civilities would probably have been extended 
much farther, but for ^ liberal exercise of the Jew's toast- 
ing-fork on the heads and shoulders of the affectionate 
youths who offered them. 

" We are very glad to see you, Oliver — very," said 
the Jew. " Dodger, take off the sausages ; and draw a 
tub near the fire for Oliver. Ah, you're a-staring at the 
pocket-handkerchiefs ! eh, my dear ! There are a good 
many of 'em, a'n't there ? We've just looked 'em out, 
ready for the wash ; that's all, Oliver ; that's all. Ha ! 
ha ! ha ! " 

The latter part of this speech was hailed by a boister- 
ous shout from all the hopeful pupils of the merry old 
gentleman. In the midst of which, they went to supper 

Oliver ate his share, and the Jew then mixed him a 


glass of hot gin and water : telling him he must drink it 
off directly, because another gentleman wanted the tum- 
bler. Oliver did as he was desired. Immediately after- 
wards, he felt himself gently lifted on to one of the sacks; 
and then he sunk into a deep sleep. 




It was late next morning when Oliver awoke, from a 
sound, long sleep. There was no other person in the 
room but the old Jew, who was boiling some coffee in a 
saucepan for breakfast, and whistling softly to himself as 
he stirred it round and round, with an iron spoon. He 
would stop every now and then to listen when there was 
the least noise below ; and, when he had satisfied him- 
self, he would go on, whistling and stirring again, as 

Although Oliver had roused himself from sleep, he 
was not thoroughly awake. There is a drowsy state, 
between sleeping and waking, when you dream more in 
five minutes with your eyes half open, and yourself half 
conscious of everything that is passing around you, than 
you would in five nights with your eyes fast closed, and 
your senses wrapt in perfect unconsciousness. At such 
times, a mortal knows just enough of what his mind is 
doing, to form some ghmmering conception of its mighty 
powers, its bounding from earth and spurning time and 
space, when freed from the restraint of its corporeal 


Oliver was precisely in this condition. He saw the 
Jew with his half-closed eyes ; heard his low whistling ; 
and recognized the sound of the spoon, grating against 
the saucepan's sides ; and yet the self-same senses were 
mentally engaged, at the same time, in busy action with 
almost everybody he had ever known. 

When the coffee was done, the Jew drew the saucepan 
to the hob. Standing, then, in an irresolute attitude for 
a few minutes, as if he did not well know how to employ 
himself, he turned round and looked at Oliver, and called 
him by his name. He did not answer, and was to all 
appearance asleep. 

After satisfying himself upon this head, the Jew 
stepped gently to the door : which he fastened. He 
then drew forth : as it seemed to Oliver, from some trap 
in the floor : a small box, which he placed carefully on 
the table. His eyes glistened as he raised the lid, and 
looked in. Dragging an old chair to the table, he sat 
down ; and took from it a magnificent gold watch, spark- 
ling with jewels. 

" Aha ! " said the Jew, shrugging up his shoulders, and 
distorting every feature with a hideous grin. " Clever 
dogs ! clever dogs ! Stanch to the last ! Never told the 
old parson where they were. Never peached upon old 
Fagin ! And why should they ? It wouldn't have 
loosened the knot, or kept the drop up a minute longer. 
No, no, no ! Fine fellows ! Fine fellows ! " 

"With these, and other muttered reflections of the like 
nature, the Jew once more deposited the watch in its 
place of safety. At least half a dozen more were sev- 
erally drawn forth from the same box, and surveyed with 
equal pleasure ; besides rings, brooches, bracelets, and 
other articles of jewelry, of such magnificent materials, 


and costly workmanship, that OHver had no idea, even 
of their names. 

Having replaced these trinkets, the Jew took out 
another : so small that it lay in the palm of his hand. 
There seemed to be some very minute inscription on it ; 
for the Jew laid it flat upon the table, and, shading it 
with his hand, pored over it long and earnestly. At 
length he put it down, as if despairing of success ; and, 
leaning back in his chair, muttered, 

" What a fine thing capital punishment is ! Dead men 
never repent ; dead men never bring awkward stories to 
light. Ah, it's a fine thing for the trade ! Five of 'em 
strung up in a row, and none left to play booty, or turn 
white livered ! " 

As the Jew uttered these words, his bright dark eyes, 
which had been staring vacantly before him, fell on 
Oliver's face ; the boy's eyes were fixed on his in mute 
curiosity ; and, although the recognition was only for an 
instant — for the briefest space of time that can possibly 
be conceived — it was enough to show the old man that 
he had been observed. He closed the lid of the box 
■with a loud crash ; and, laying his hand on a bread knife 
which was on the table, started furiously up. He trem- 
bled very much though ; for even in his terror, Oliver 
could see that the knife quivered in the air. 

" Wiiat's that ? " said the Jew. " What do you watch 
me for ? Why are you awake ? Wliat have you seen ? 
Speak out, boy ! Quick — quick ! for your life ! " 

" I wasn't able to sleep any longer, sir," replied Oli- 
ver, meekly. " I am very sorry if I have disturbed you, 

" You were not aw^ake an hour ago ? " said the Jew, 
scowling fiercely on the boy. 


" No — no, indeed," replied Oliver. 

" Are you sure ? " cried the Jew : with a still fiercer 
look than before : and a threatening attitude. 

" Upon my word I was not, sir," replied Oliver ear- 
nestly. " I was not, indeed, sir." 

" Tush, tush, my dear ! " said the Jew, abruptly re- 
suming his old manner, and playing with the knife a 
little, before he laid it down : as if to induce the belief 
that he had caught it up, in mere sport. " Of course I 
know that, my dear. I only tried to frighten you. You're 
a brave boy. Ha ! ha ! you're a brave boy, Oliver ! " The 
Jew rubbed his hands with a chuckle, but glanced un- 
easily at the box, notwithstanding. 

" Did you see any of these pretty things, my dear ? " 
said the Jew, laying his hand upon it after a short pause. 

" Yes, sir," replied Ohver. 

" Ah ! " said the Jew, turning rather pale. " They — 
they're mine, Oliver ; my little property. All I have to 
live upon, in my old age. The folks call me a miser, 
my dear — only a miser ; that's all." 

Oliver thought the old gentleman must be a decided 
miser to live in such a dirty place, with so many watches ; 
but, thinking that perhaps his fondness for the Dodger 
and the other boys, cost him a good deal of money, he 
only cast a deferential look at the Jew, and asked if he 
might get up. 

" Certainly, my dear — certainly," replied the old gen- 
tleman. " Stay. There's a pitcher of water in the corner 
by the door. Bring it here ; and I'll give you a basin to 
wash in, my dear." 

Oliver got up ; walked across the room ; and stooped 
for an instant to raise the pitcher. When he turned his 
head, the box was gone. 


He had scarcely washed himself, and made everything 
tidy, by emptying the basin out of the window, agree- 
ably to the Jew's directions, when the Dodger returned ; 
accompanied by a very sprightly young friend, whom 
Oliver had seen smoking on the previous night, and who 
was now formally introduced to him as Charley Bates. 
The four sat down, to breakfast on the coffee, and some 
hot rolls and ham, which the Dodger had brought home 
in the crown of his hat. 

" Well," said the Jew, glancing slyly at Oliver, and 
addressing himself to the Dodger, " I hope you've been 
at work this morning, my dears ? " 

" Hard," replied the Dodger. 

" As Nails," added Charley Bates. 

" Good boys, good boys ! " said the Jew. " What have 
you got. Dodger ? " 

" A couple of pocket-books," replied that young gen- 

" Lined ? " inquired the Jew, with eagerness. 

" Pretty well," replied the Dodger, producing two 
pocket-books : one green, and the other red. 

" Not so heavy as they might be," said the Jew, after 
looking at the insides carefully ; " but very neat and 
nicely made. Ingenious workman, a'n't he, Oliver?" 

" Very, indeed, sir," said Oliver. At which Mr. 
Charles Bates laughed uproariously ; very much to the 
amazement of Oliver, who saw nothing to laugh at, in 
anything that had passed. 

" And what have you got, my dear ? " said Fagin to 
Charley Bates. 

" Wipes," replied Master Bates ; at the same time 
producing four pocket-handkerchiefs. 

" Well," said the Jew, inspecting them closely ; they're 


very good ones — very. You haven't marked tliem well, 
though, Charley ; so the marks shall be picked out with 
a needle, and we'll teach Oliver how to do it. Shall us, 
Oliver, eh ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! " 

" If you please, sir," said Oliver. 

" You'd like to be able to make pocket-handkerchiefs 
as easy as Charley Bates, wouldn't you, my dear ? " said 
the Jew. 

" Very much indeed, if you'll teach me, sir," replied 

Master Bates saw something so exquisitely ludicrous 
in this reply, that he burst into another laugh ; which 
laugh, meeting the coffee he was drinking, and carrying 
it down some wrong channel, very nearly terminated in 
his premature suffocation. 

" He is so jolly green ! " said Charley when he re- 
covered : as an apology to the company for his unpolite 

The Dodger said nothing, but he smoothed Oliver's 
hair over his eyes, and said he'd know better by-and-by ; 
upon which the old gentleman, observing Oliver's color 
mounting, changed the subject by asking whether there 
had been much of a crowd at the execution that morn- 
ing. This made him wonder more and more ; for it 
was plain from the replies of the two boys that they 
had both been there ; and Oliver naturally wondered 
how they could possibly have found time to be so very 

When the breakfast was cleared away, the merry old 
gentleman and the two boys played at a very curious 
and uncommon game, which was performed in this way. 
The merry old gentleman : placing a snuff-box in one 
pocket of his trousers, a note-case in the other, and a 


watch in his waistcoat-pocket : with a guard-chain round 
his neck : and sticking a mock diamond pin in his shirt : 
buttoned his coat tight round him, and putting his spec- 
tacle-case and handkerchief in his pockets, trotted up 
and down the room with a stick, in imitation of the 
manner in which old gentlemen walk about the streets 
any hour in the day. Sometimes he stopped at the 
fire-place, and sometimes at the door, making belief 
that he was staring with all his might into shop-win- 
dows. At such times, he would look constantly round 
him, for fear of thieves, and keep slapping all his pock- 
ets in turn, to see that he hadn't lost anything, in such 
a very funny and natural manner, that Oliver laughed 
till the tears ran down his face. All this time, the two 
boys followed him closely about ; getting out of his 
sight, so nimbly, every time he turned round, that it 
was impossible to follow their motions. At last, the 
Dodger trod upon his toes, or ran upon his boot acci- 
dentally, while Charley Bates stumbled up against 
him behind ; and in that one moment they took from 
him, with the most extraordinary rapidity, snuff-box, 
note-case, watch-guard, chain, shirt-pin, pocket-handker- 
chief — even the spectacle-case. If the old gentleman 
felt a hand in any one of his pockets, he cried out where 
it was ; and then the game began all over again. 

"When this game had been played a great many times, 
a couple of young ladles called to see the young gentle- 
men ; one of whom was named Bet, and the other 
Nancy. They wore a good deal of hair, not very neatly 
turned up behind, and were rather untidy about the 
shoes and stockings. They were not exactly pretty, 
perhaps ; but they had a great deal of color in their 
faces, and looked quite stout and hearty. Being re- 


markably free and agreeable in their manners, Oliver 
thought them very nice girls indeed. As there is no 
doubt they were. 

These visitors stopped a long time. Spirits were pro- 
duced, in consequence of one of the young ladies com- 
plaining of a coldness in her inside ; and the conversation 
took a very convivial and improving turn. At length, 
Charley Bates expressed his opinion that it was time 
to pad the hoof This, it occurred to Oliver, must be 
French for going out ; for, directly afterwards, the 
Dodger, and Charley, and the two young ladies, went 
away together, having been kindly furnished by the 
amiable old Jew with money to spend. 

" There, my dear," said Fagin. " That's a pleasant 
life, isn't it? They have gone out for the day." 

" Have they done work, sir ? " inquired Oliver. 

" Yes," said the Jew ; " that is, unless they should 
unexpectedly come across any, when they are out ; and 
they won't neglect it, if they do, my dear : depend upon 

" Make 'em your models, my dear. Make 'em your 
models," said the Jew, tapping the fire-shovel on the 
hearth to add force to his words ; " do everything they 
bid you, and take their advice in all matters — espe- 
cially the Dodger's, my dear. He'll be a great man 
himself, and will make you one too, if you take pattern 
by him — Is my handkerchief hanging out of my pocket, 
my dear ? " said the Jew, stopping short. 

" Yes, sir," said Ohver. 

" See if you can take it out, without my feeling 
it: as you saw them do, when we were at play this 

Oliver held up the bottom of the pocket with one 


hand, as he had seen the Dodger hold it, and drew the 
handkerchief hghtly out of it with the other. 

" Is it gone ? " cried the Jew. 

" Here it is, sir," said Ohver, showing it in his hand. 

" You're a clever boy, my dear," said the playful old 
gentleman, patting Oliver on the head approvingly. " I 
never saw a sharper lad. Here's a shilling for you. If 
you go on, in this way, you'll be the greatest man of the 
time. And now come here, and I'll show you how to 
take the marks out of the handkerchiefs." 

OHver wondered what picking the old gentleman's 
pocket in play, had to do with his chances of being a 
great man. But, thinking that the Jew, being so much 
his senior, must know best, he followed him quietly to 
the table, and was soon deeply involved in his new 




For many days, Oliver remained in the Jew's room, 
picking the marks out of the pocket-handkerchiefs, (of 
which a great number were brought home,) and some- 
times taking part in the game already described : which 
the two boys and the Jew played, regularly, every morn- 
ing. At length, he began to languish for fresh air ; and 
took many occasions of earnestly entreating the old gen- 
tleman to allow him to go out to work, with his two com- 

Oliver was rendered the more anxious to be actively 
employed, by what he had seen of the stern morality of 
the old gentleman's character. Whenever the Dodger 
or Charley Bates came home at night, empty-handed, he 
would expatiate with great vehemence on the misery of 
idle and lazy habits ; and would enforce upon them the 
necessity of an active life, by sending them supperless 
to bed. On one occasion, indeed, he even went so far 
as to knock them both down a flight of stairs ; but this 
was carrying out his virtuous precepts to an unusual 


At length, one morning, Oliver obtained the permis- 
sion he had so eagerly sought. There had been no hand- 
kerchiefs to work upon, for two or three days, and the 
dinners had been rather meagre. Perhaps these were 
reasons for the old gentleman's giving his assent ; but, 
whether they were or no, he told Oliver he might go ; 
and placed him under the joint guardianship of Charley 
Bates, and his friend the Dodger. 

The three boys sallied out ; the Dodger with his coat- 
sleeves tucked up, and his hat cocked, as usual ; Master 
Bates sauntering along with his hands in his pockets ; 
and Oliver between them, wondering where they were 
going, and what branch of manufacture he would be in- 
structed in, first. 

The pace at which they went, was such a very lazy, 
ill-looking saunter, that Oliver soon began to think his 
comj^anions were going to deceive the old gentleman, by 
not going to work at all. The Dodger had a vicious 
propensity, too, of pulling the caps from the heads of 
small boys and tossing them down areas ; while Charley 
Bates exhibited some very loose notions concerning the 
rights of property, by pilfering divers apples and onions 
from the stalls at the kennel sides, and thrusting them 
into pockets which were so surprisingly capacious, that 
they seemed to undermine his whole suit of clothes in 
every direction. These things looked so bad, that Oliver 
was on the point of declaring his intention of seeking his 
way back, in the best way he could ; when his thoughts 
were suddenly directed into another channel, by a very 
mysterious change of behavior on the part of the 

They were just emerging from a narrow court not far 
from the open square in Clerkenwell, which is yet called, 


by some strange perversion of terms, " The Green : " 
when the Dodger made a sudden stop ; and, laying his 
finger on his lip, drew his companions back again, with 
the greatest caution and circumspection. 

" What's the matter ? " demanded Oliver. 

" Hush ! " replied the Dodger. " Do you see that old 
cove at the book-stall ? " 

" The old gentleman over the way ? " said Oliver. 
" Yes, I see him." 

" He'll do," said the Dodger. 

" A prime plant," observed Master Charley Bates. 

Oliver looked from one to the other, with the greatest 
surprise ; but he was not permitted to make any in- 
quiries ; for the two boys walked stealthily across the 
road, and slunk close behind the old gentleman towards 
whom his attention had been directed. Oliver walked 
a few paces after them ; and, not knowing whether to 
advance or retire, stood looking on in silent amazement. 

The old gentleman was a very respectable-looking 
personage, with a powdered head, and gold spectacles. 
He was dressed in a bottle-green coat with a black velvet 
collar ; wore white trousers ; and carried a smart bamboo 
cane under his arm. He had taken up a book from the 
stall ; and there he stood : reading away, as hard as if he 
were in his elbow-chair, in his own study. It is very 
possible that he fancied himself there, indeed ; for it was 
plain, from his utter abstraction, that he saw not the 
book-stall, nor the street, nor the boys, nor, in short, any- 
thing but the book itself: which he was reading straight 
through : turning over the leaf when he got to the bot- 
tom of a page, beginning at the top line of the next one, 
and going regularly on, with the greatest interest and 


What was Oliver's horror and alarm as he stood a few 
paces off, looking on with his eyelids as wide open as they 
would possibly go, to see the Dodger plunge his hand 
into the old gentleman's pocket, and di'aw from thence a 
handkerchief! To see him hand the same to Charley 
Bates ; and finally to behold them, both, running away 
round the corner at full speed! 

In an instant the whole mystery of the handkerchiefs, 
and the watches, and the jewels, and the Jew, rushed 
upon the boy's mind. He stood, for a moment, with the 
blood so tingling through all his veins from terror, that 
he felt as if he were in a burning fire ; then, confused 
and frightened, he took to his heels ; and, not knowing 
what he did, made off as fast as he could lay his feet to 
the ground. 

This was all done in a minute's space. In the very 
instant when Oliver began to run, the old gentleman, 
putting his hand to his pocket, and missing his handker- 
chief, turned sharp round. Seeing the boy scudding 
away at such a rapid pace, he very naturally concluded 
him to be the depredator; and, shouting " Stop thief!" 
with all his might, made off after him, book in hand. 

But the old gentleman was not the only person who 
raised the hue-and-cry. The Dodger and Master Bates, 
unwilling to attract public attention by running down the 
open street, had merely retired into the very first door- 
way round the corner. They no sooner heard the cry, 
and saw Oliver running, than, guessing exactly how the 
matter stood, they issued forth with great promptitude ; 
and, shouting "Stop thief!" too, joined in the pursuit 
like good citizens. 

Although Oliver had been brought up by philosophers, 
he was not theoretically acquainted with the beautiful 


axiom that self-preservation is the first law of nature. 
If he had been, perhaps he would have been prepared 
for this. Not being prepared, however, it alarmed him 
the more ; so away he went like the wind, with the old 
gentleman and the two boys roaring and shouting be- 
hind him. 

"Stop thief! Stop thief!" There is a magic in the 
sound. The tradesman leaves his counter, and the car- 
man his wagon ; the butcher throws down his tray ; the 
baker his basket ; the milkman his pail ; the errand-boy 
his parcels ; the school-boy his marbles ; the pavior his 
pickaxe ; the child his battledore. Away they run, 
pell-mell, helter-skelter, slap-dash : tearing, yelling, and 
screaming : knocking down the passengers as they turn 
the corners : rousing up the dogs, and astonishing the 
fowls : and streets, squares, and courts, reecho with the 

"Stop thief! Stop thief!" The cry is taken up by 
a hundred voices, and the crowd accumulate at every 
turning. Away they fly : splashing through the mud, 
and rattling along the pavements : up go the windows, 
out run the people, onward bear the mob, a whole audi- 
ence desert Punch in the very thickest of the plot, and, 
joining the rushing throng, swell the shout, and lend 
fresh vigor to the cry, " Stop thief ! Stop thief ! " 

" Stop thief ! Stop thief ! " There is a passion for 
hunting something deeply implanted in the human breast. 
One wretched, breathless child, panting with exhaustion ; 
terror in his looks ; agony in his eye ; large drops of per- 
spiration streaming down his face ; strains every nerve 
to make head upon his pursuers ; and as they follow 
on his track, and gain upon him every instant, they hail 
his decreasing strength with still louder shouts, and 


whoop and scream with joj. " Stop thief ! " Ay, stop 
him for God's sake, were it only in mercy ! 

Stopped at last ! A clever blow ! He is down upon 
the pavement ; and the crowd eagerly gather round him : 
each new-comer, jostling and struggling with the others 
to catch a glimpse. " Stand aside ! " " Give him a 
little air!" "Nonsense! he don't deserve it." "Where's 
the gentleman? " " Here he is, coming down the street." 
" Make room there for the gentleman ! " " Is this the 
boy, sir!" "Yes." 

Oliver lay, covered with mud and dust, and bleeding 
from the mouth, looking wildly round upon the heap of 
faces that surrounded him, when the old gentleman was 
officiously dragged and pushed into the circle by the 
foremost of the pursuers. 

" Yes," said the gentleman, " I am afraid it is the 

" Afraid ! " murmured the crowd. " That's a good 

" Poor fellow ! " said the gentleman, " he has hurt him- 

" / did that, sir," said a great lubberly fellow, stepping 
forward ; " and preciously I cut my knuckle ag'in' his 
mouth. / stopped him, sir." 

The fellow touched his hat with a grin, expecting 
something for his pains ; but, the old gentleman, eyeing 
him with an expression of dislike, looked anxiously 
round, as if he contemplated running away himself: 
which it is very possible he might have attempted to do, 
and thus afforded another chase, had not a police-officer 
(who is generally the last person to arrive in such cases) 
at that moment made his way through the crowd, and 
seized Oliver by the collar. 


" Come, get up," said the man, roughly. 

" It wasn't me indeed, sir. Indeed, indeed, it was two 
other boys," said Ohver, clasping his hands passionately, 
and looking round. " They are here somewhere." 

" Oh no, they a'n't," said the officer. He meant this 
to be ironical, but it was true besides ; for the Dodger 
and Charley Bates had filed off down the first conven- 
ient court they came to. " Come, get up ! " 

" Don't hurt him," said the old gentleman, compassion- 

" Oh no, I won't hurt him," replied the officer, tear- 
ing his jacket half off bis back, in proof thereof. 
" Come, I know you ; it won't do. Will you stand 
upon your legs, you young devil ? " 

Oliver, who could hardly stand, made a shift to raise 
himself on his feet, and was at once lugged along the 
street by the jacket-collar, at a rapid pace. The gentle- 
man walked on with them by the officer's side ; and as 
many of the crowd as could achieve the feat, got a 
little ahead, and stared back at Oliver from time to time. 
The boys shouted in triumph ; and on they went. 




The offence had been committed within the district, 
and indeed in the immediate neighborhood of, a very 
notorious metropolitan police-office. The crowd had only 
the satisfaction of accompanying Oliver through two or 
three streets, and down a place called Mutton-hill, when 
he was led beneath a low archway, and up a dirty court, 
into this dispensary of summary justice, by the back 
way. It was a small paved yard into which they turned: 
and here they encountered a stout man, with a bunch 
of whiskers on his face, and a bunch of keys in his 

" What's the matter now ? " said the man carelessly. 

" A young fogle-hunter," replied the man who had 
Oliver in charge. 

" Are you the party that's been robbed, sir ? " inquired 
the man with the keys. 

" Yes, I am," replied the old gentleman ; " but I am 
not sure that this boy actually took the handkerchief. I 
— I would rather not press the case." 

" Must go before the magistrate now, sir," replied the 
man. " His worship wiU be disengaged in half a min- 
ute. Now, young gallows ! " 


This was an invitation for Oliver to enter through a 
door which he unlocked as he spoke : and which led into 
a stone cell. Here he was searched ; and, nothing being 
found upon him, locked up. 

This cell was in shape and size, something like an area 
cellar, only not so light. It was most intolerably dirty ; 
for it was Monday morning ; and it had been tenanted 
by six drunken people, who had been locked up, else- 
where, since Saturday night. But this is httle. In our 
station-houses, men and women are every night confined 
on the most trivial charges — the word is worth noting — 
in dungeons, compared with which, those in Newgate, 
occupied by the most atrocious felons, tried, found guilty, 
and under sentence of death, are palaces. Let any one 
who doubts this, compare the two. 

The old gentleman looked almost as rueful as Oliver 
when the key grated in the lock. He turned with a sigh 
to the book, which had been the innocent cause of all this 

" There is something in that boy's face," said the old 
gentleman to himself as he walked slowly away, tapping 
his chin with the cover of the book, in a thoughtful man- 
ner ; " something that touches and interests me. Can 
he be innocent ? He looked like. — By-the-by," ex- 
claimed the old gentleman, halting very abruptly and 
staring up into the sky, " Bless my soul ! — where have 
I seen something like that look before ? " 

After musing for some minutes, the old gentleman 
walked, with the same meditative face, into a back ante- 
room opening from the yard ; and there, retiring into a 
corner, called up before his mind's eye a vast amphitheatre 
of faces over which a dusky curtain had hung for many 
years. " No," said the old gentleman, shaking his head; 
" it must be imagination." 


He wandered over them again. He had called them 
into view ; and it was not easy to replace the shroud that 
had so long concealed them. There were the faces of 
friends, and foes, and of many that had been almost stran- 
gers, peering intrusively from the crowd ; there were 
the faces of young and blooming girls that were now old 
women ; there were faces that the grave had changed 
and closed upon, but which the mind, superior to its 
power, still dressed in their old freshness and beauty, 
calling back the lustre of the eyes, the brightness of the 
smile, the beaming of the soul through its mask of clay, 
and whispering of beauty beyond the tomb, changed but 
to be heightened, and taken from earth only to be set up 
as a light, to shed a soft and gentle glow upon the path 
to Heaven. 

But the old gentleman could recall no one countenance 
of which Oliver's features bore a trace. So, he heaved 
a sigh over the recollections he had awakened ; and being, 
happily for himself, an absent old gentleman, buried them 
again in the pages of the musty book. 

He was roused by a touch on the shoulder, and a re- 
quest from the man with the keys to follow him into the 
office. He closed his book hastily ; and was at once 
ushered into the imposing presence of the renowned Mr. 

The office was a front parlor, with a panelled wall. 
Mr. Fang sat behind a bar, at the upper end ; and on 
one side the door was a sort of wooden pen in which 
poor little Oliver was already deposited ; trembling very 
much at the awfulness of the scene. 

Mr. Fang was a lean, long-backed, stiff-necked, mid- 
dle-sized man, with no great quantity of hair, and what 
he had, orrowinor on the back and sides of his head. His 


face was stern, and much flushed. If he were really not 
in the habit of drinking rather more than was exactly 
good for him, he might have brought an action against 
his countenance for libel, and have recovered heavy 

The old gentleman bowed respectfully ; and advancing 
to the magistrate's desk, said, suiting the action to the 
word, "That is my name and address, sir." He then 
withdrew a pace or two ; and, with another polite and 
gentlemanly inclination of the head, awaited to be ques- 

Now, it so happened that Mr. Fang was at that mo- 
ment perusing a leading article in a newspaper of the 
morning, adverting to some recent decision of his, and 
commending him, for the three hundred and fiftieth time, 
to the special and particular notice of the Secretary of 
State for the Home Department. He was out of tem- 
per ; and he looked up with an angry scowl. 

" Who are you ? " said Mr. Fang. 

The old gentleman pointed, with some surprise, to his 

" Ofiicer ! " said Mr. Fang, tossing the card contempt- 
uously away with the newspaper, " who is this fellow ? " 

" My name, sir," said the old gentleman, speaking lihe 
a gentleman, " my name, sir, is Brownlow. Permit me 
to inquire the name of the magistrate who offers a gra- 
tuitous and unprovoked insult to a respectable person, 
under the protection of the bench." Saying this, Mr. 
Brownlow looked round the office as if in search of 
some person who would afford him the required infor- 

" Officer ! " said Mr. Fang, throwing the paper on one 
side, " what's this fellow charged with ? " 


" He's not charged at all, your worship," replied the 
officer. " He appears against the boy, your worship." 

His worship knew this perfectly well; but it was a 
good annoyance, and a safe one. 

" Appears against the boy, does he ? " said Fang, sur- 
veying Mr. Brownlow contemptuously from head to foot. 
« Swear him ! " 

" Before I am sworn, I must beg to say one word," 
said Mr. Brownlow : " and that is, that I really never, 
without actual experience, could have believed " — 

" Hold your tongue, sir ! " said Mr. Fang, peremptorily. 

" I will not, sir ! " replied the old gentleman. 

" Hold your tongue this instant, or I'll have you turned 
out of the office ! " said Mr. Fang. " You're an insolent, 
impertinent fellow. How dare you bully a magistrate ? " 

" What ! " exclaimed the old gentlemen, reddening. 

" Swear this person ! " said Fang to the clerk. " I'll 
not hear another word. Swear him." 

Mr. Brownlow's indignation was greatly roused ; but, 
reflecting perhaps, that he might only injure the boy by 
giving vent to it, he suppressed his feelings, and submit- 
ted to be sworn at once. 

" Now," said Fang, " what's the charge against this 
boy ? What have you got to say, sir ? " 

" I was standing at a book-stall " — Mr. Brownlow 

'* Hold your tongue, sir ! " said Mr. Fang. " Police- 
man ! Where's the policeman ? Here, swear this police- 
man. Now, policeman, what is this ? " 

The policeman, with becoming humility, related how 
he had taken the charge ; how he had searched Oliver, 
and found nothing on his person ; and how that was all 
he knew about it. 


" Are there any witnesses ? " inquired Mr. Fang. 

" None, your worship," replied the policeman. 

Mr. Fang sat silent for some minutes, and then, turn- 
ing round to the prosecutor, said in a towering passion, 

" Do you mean to state what your complaint against 
this boy is, man, or do you not? You have been sworn. 
Now, if you stand there, refusing to give evidence, I'll 
punish you for disrespect to the bench ; I will, by — " 

By what, or by whom, nobody knows ; for the clerk 
and jailer coughed very loud, just at the right moment ; 
and the former dropped a heavy book upon the floor : 
thus preventing the word from being heard — acciden- 
tally, of course. 

With many interruptions, and repeated insults, Mr. 
Brownlow contrived to state his case ; observing that, in 
the surprise of the moment, he had run after the boy 
because he saw him running away ; and expressing his 
hope that, if the magistrate should believe him, although 
not actually the thief, to be connected with thieves, he 
would deal as leniently with him as justice would allow. 

" He has been hurt already," said the old gentleman 
in conclusion. " And I fear," he added, with great en- 
ergy, looking towards the bar, " I really fear that he is 

" Oh ! yes ; I dare say ! " said Mr. Fang, with a sneer. 
" Come ; none of your tricks here, you young vagabond ; 
they won't do. What's your name ? " 

Oliver tried to reply, but his tongue failed him. He 
was deadly pale ; and the whole place seemed turning 
round and round. 

" What's your name, you hardened scoundrel ? " de- 
manded Mr. Fang. " Officer, what's his name ? " 
This was addressed to a bluff old fellow, in a striped 


waistcoat, who was standing bj the bar. He bent over 
Oliver, and repeated the inquiry ; but finding him really 
incapable of understanding the question ; and knowing 
that his not replying would only infuriate the magistrate 
the more, and add to the severity of his sentence, he 
hazarded a guess. 

" He says his name's Tom White, your worship," said 
this kind-hearted thief-taker. 

" Oh, he won't speak out, won't he ? " said Fang. 
" Very well, very well. Where does he live ? " 

" Where he can, your worship," replied the ofiicer : 
again pretending to receive Oliver's answer. 

" Has he any parents ? " inquired Mr. Fang. 

" He says they died in his infancy, your worship," re- 
plied the officer : hazarding the usual reply. 

At this point of the inquiry, Oliver raised his head ; 
and, looking round with imploring eyes, murmured a 
feeble prayer for a draught of water. 

" Stuff and nonsense ! " said Mr. Fang : " don't try to 
make a fool of me." 

" I think he really is ill, your worship," remonstrated 
the officer. 

" I know better," said Mr. Fang. 

" Take care of him, officer," said the old gentleman, 
raising his hands instinctively ; " he'll fall down." 

" Stand away, officer," cried Fang ; " let him, if he 

Oliver availed himself of the kind permission, and 
fell to the floor in a fainting fit. The men in the ofiice 
looked at each other, but no one dared to stir. 

"I knew he was shamming," said Fang, as if this 
were incontestable proof of the fact. " Let him lie 
there ; he'll soon be tired of that." 


" How do you propose to deal with the case, sir ? " in- 
quired the clerk in a low voice. 

" Summarily," replied Mr. Fang. " He stands com- 
mitted for three months — hard labor of course. Clear 
the office." 

The door was opened for this purpose ; and a couple 
of men were preparing to carry the insensible boy to his 
cell ; when an elderly man of decent but poor appear- 
ance, clad in an old suit of black, rushed hastily into the 
office, and advanced towards the bench. 

" Stop, stop ! Don't take him away ! For Heaven's 
sake stop a moment ! " cried the new-comer, breathless 
with haste. 

Although the presiding Genii in such an office as this, 
exercise a summary and arbitrary power over the hber- 
ties, the good name, the character, almost the lives, of 
Her Majesty's subjects, especially of the poorer class ; 
and although, within such walls, enough fantastic tricks 
are daily played to make the angels blind with weeping ; 
they are closed to the public, save through the medium 
of the daily press.* Mr. Fang was consequently not a 
little indignant to see an unbidden guest enter in such 
irreverent disorder. 

"What is this? Who is this? Turn this man out. 
Clear the office ! " cried Mr. Fang. 

" I will speak," cried the man ; " I will not be turned 
out. I saw it all. I keep the book-stall. I demand to 
be sworn. I will not be put down. Mr. Fang, you 
must hear me. You must not refuse, sir." 

The man was right. His manner was determined ; 
and the matter was growing rather too serious to be 
hushed up. 

* Or were virtually, then. 


" Swear the man," growled Mr. Fang, with a very ill 
grace. " Now, man, what have you got to say ? " 

" This," said the man : " I saw three boys : two others 
and the prisoner here : loitering on the opposite side of 
the way, when this gentleman was reading. The rob- 
bery was committed by another boy. I saw it done : 
and I saw that this boy was perfectly amazed and stu- 
pefied by it." Having by this time recovered a little 
breath, the worthy book-stall keeper proceeded to relate, 
in a more coherent manner, the exact circumstances of 
the robbery. 

" Why didn't you come here before ? " said Fang, after 
a pause. 

" I hadn't a soul to mind the shop," replied the man. 
" Everybody who could have helped me, had joined in 
the pursuit. I could get nobody till five minutes ago ; 
and I've run here all the way." 

" The prosecutor was reading, was he ? " inquired 
Fang, after another pause. 

" Yes," replied the man. " The very book he has in 
his hand." 

« Oh, that book, eh ? " said Fang. " Is it paid for ? " 

" No, it is not," replied the man, with a smile. 

" Dear me I forgot all about it ! " exclaimed the absent 
old gentleman, innocently. 

" A nice person to prefer a charge against a poor 
boy ! " said Fang, with a comical effort to look humane. 
" I consider, sir, that you have obtained possession of 
that book, under very suspicious and disreputable cir- 
cumstances ; and you may think yourself very fortunate 
that the owner of the property declines to prosecute. 
Let this be a lesson to you, my man, or the law will 
overtake you yet. The boy is discharged. Clear the 


" D — n me ! " cried the old gentleman, bursting out 
with the rage he had kept down so long, " d — me ! 


" Clear the office ! " said the magistrate. " Officers, do 
you hear ? Clear the office ! " 

The mandate was obeyed ; and the indignant Mr. 
Brownlow was conveyed out, with the book in one hand, 
and the bamboo cane in the other : in a perfect frenzy 
of rage and defiance. He reached the yard ; and his 
passion vanished in a moment. Little Oliver Twist 
lay on his back on the pavement, with his shirt unbut- 
toned, and his temples bathed with water ; his face a 
deadly white ; and a cold tremble convulsing his whole 

" Poor boy, poor boy ! " said Mr. Brownlow, bending 
over him. " Call a coach, somebody, pray. Directly ! " 

A coach was obtained, and Ohver, having been care- 
fully laid on one seat, the old gentleman got in and sat 
himself on the other. 

" May I accompany you ? " said the book-stall keeper, 
looking in. 

" Bless me, yes, my dear sir," said Mr. Brownlow 
quickly. " I forgot you. Dear, dear ! I have this un- 
happy book still ! Jump in. Poor fellow ! there's no 
time to lose." 

The book-stall keeper got into the coach ; and away 
they drove. 




The coach rattled away, down Mount Pleasant and 
up Exmouth-street : over nearly the same ground as 
that which Oliver had traversed when he first entered 
London in company with the Dodger ; and, turning a 
different way when it reached the Angel at Islington, 
stopped at length before a neat house, in a quiet shady 
street near Pentonville. Here a bed was prepared with- 
out loss of time, in which Mr. Brownlow saw his young 
charge carefully and comfortably deposited ; and here, 
he was tended with a kindness and solicitude that knew 
no bounds. 

But, for many days, Oliver remained insensible to all 
the goodness of his new friends. The sun rose and sunk, 
and rose and sunk again, and many times after that ; and 
still the boy lay stretched on his uneasy bed, dwindling 
away beneath the dry and wasting heat of fever. The 
worm does not his work more surely on the dead body, 
than does this slow creeping fire upon the living frame. 

Weak, and thin, and pallid, he awoke at last from 
what seemed to have been a long and troubled dream. 


Feebly raising himself in the bed, with his head resting 
on his trembling arm, he looked anxiously around. 

" What room is this ? Where have I been brought 
to ? " said Oliver. " This is not the place I went to 
sleep in." 

He uttered these words in a feeble voice, being very 
faint and weak ; but they were overheard at once ; for 
the curtain at the bed's head was hastily drawn back, 
and a motherly old lady, very neatly and precisely 
dressed, rose as she undrew it, from an arm-chair close 
by, in which she had been sitting at needle-work. 

" Hush, my dear," said the old lady softly. " You must 
be very quiet, or you will be ill again ; and you have 
been very bad, — as bad as bad could be, pretty nigh. 
Lie down again : there's a dear." With these words, 
the old lady very gently placed Oliver's head upon the 
pillow ; and smoothing back his hair from his forehead, 
looked so kindly and lovingly in his face, that he could 
not help placing his little withered hand in hers, and 
drawing it round his neck. 

" Save us ! " said the old lady, with tears in her eyes, 
" what a grateful little dear it is. Pretty creetur' ! what 
would his mother feel if she had sat by him as I have, 
and could see him now ! " 

" Perhaps she does see me," whispered Oliver, folding 
his hands together; "perhaps she has sat by me. I 
almost feel as if she had." 

" That was the fever, my dear," said the old lady 

" I suppose it was," replied Oliver, " because Heaven 
is a long way off; and they are too happy there, to come 
down to the bedside of a poor boy. But if she knew I 
was ill, she must have pitied me, even there ; for she 


was very ill herself before she died. She can't know 
anything about me though," added Oliver after a mo- 
ment's silence. " If she had seen me hurt, it would have 
made her sorrowful ; and her face has always looked 
sweet and happy, when I have dreamed of her." 

The old lady made no reply to this ; but wiping her 
eyes first, and her spectacles, which lay on the counter- 
pane, afterwards, as if they were part and parcel of those 
features, brought some cool stuflf for Oliver to drink ; and 
then, patting him on the cheek, told him he must lie 
very quiet, or he would be ill again. 

So, Oliver kept very still ; partly because he was 
anxious to obey the kind old hidy in all things; and 
partly, to tell the truth, because he was completely ex- 
hausted with what he had already said. He soon fell 
into a gentle doze, from which he was awakened by the 
light of a candle : which being brought near the bed, 
showed him a gentleman, with a very large and loud- 
ticking gold watch in his hand, who felt his pulse, and 
said he was a great deal better. 

" You are a great deal better, are you not, my dear ? " 
said the gentleman. 

" Yes, thank you, sir," replied Oliver. 

" Yes, I know you are," said the gentleman : " You're 
hungry too, a'n't you ? " 

" No, sir," answered Oliver. 

" Hem ! " said the gentleman. " No, I know you're 
not. He is not hungry, Mrs. Bedwin," said the gentle- 
man : looking very wise. 

The old lady made a respectful inclination of the head, 
which seemed to say that she thought the doctor was a 
very clever man. The doctor appeared much of the 
same opinion himself. 


" You feel sleepy, don't you, my dear ? " said the 

" No, sir," replied Oliver. 

" No," said the doctor with a very shrewd and satisfied 
look. " You're not sleej)y. Nor thirsty. Are you ? " 

" Yes, sir, rather thirsty," answered Oliver. 

" Just as I expected, Mrs. Bedwin," said the doctor. 
" It's very natural that he should be thirsty. You may 
give him a little tea, ma'am, and some dry toast without 
any butter. Don't keep him too warm, ma'am ; but be 
careful that you don't let him be too cold — will you 
have the goodness ? " 

The old lady dropped a courtesy. The doctor, after 
tasting the cool stuff, and expressing a qualified approval 
thereof, hurried away : his boots cracking in a very im- 
portant and wealthy manner as he went down-stairs. 

Oliver dozed off again, soon after this ; when he 
awoke, it was nearly twelve o'clock. The old lady ten- 
derly bade him good-night shortly afterwards, and left 
him in charge of a fat old woman who had just come : 
bringing with her, in a little bundle, a small Prayer Book 
and a large nightcap. Putting the latter on her head 
and the former on the table, the old woman, after telling 
Oliver that she had come to sit up with him, drew her 
chair close to the fire and went off into a series of short 
naps, checkered at frequent intervals with sundry tum- 
blings forward, and divers moans and chokings : which, 
however, had no worse effect than causing her to rub 
her nose very hard, and then fall asleep again. 

And thus the night crept slowly on. Oliver lay 
awake for some time, counting the little circles of light, 
which the reflection of the rushlight-shade threw upon 
the ceiling ; or tracing with his languid eyes the intricate 


pattern of the paper on the wall. The darkness and the 
deep stillness of the room were very solemn ; and as they 
brought into the boy's mind the thought that death had 
been hovering there, for many days and nights, and 
might jet fill it with the gloom and dread of his awful 
presence, he turned his face upon the pillow, and fer- 
vently prayed to Heaven. 

Gradually, he fell into that deep tranquil sleep which 
ease from recent suffering alone imparts ; that calm and 
peaceful rest which it is pain to wake from. Who, if 
this were death, would be roused again to all the strug- 
gles and turmoils of Hfe ; to all its cares for the present ; 
its anxieties for the future; more than all, its weary 
recollections of the past ! 

It had been bright day for hours when Oliver opened 
his eyes ; and when he did so he felt cheerful and happy. 
The crisis of the disease was safely past. He belonged 
to the world again. 

In three days' time he was able to sit in an easy-chair, 
well propped up with pillows ; and, as he was still 
too weak to walk, Mrs. Bedwin had him carried down- 
stairs into the little housekeeper's room, which belonged 
to her. Having him sat here, by the fireside, the good 
old lady sat herself down too ; and, being in a state of 
considerable delight at seeing him so much better, forth- 
with began to cry most violently. 

" Never mind me, my dear," said the old lady. " I'm 
only having a regular good cry. There ; it's all over 
now ; and I'm quite comfortable." 

" You're very, very kind to me, ma'am," said Oliver. 

" Well, never you mind that, my dear," said the old 
lady ; " that's got nothing to do. with your broth ; and 
it's full time you had it ; for the doctor says Mr. Brown- 


low may come in to see you this morning ; and we must 
get up our best looks, because the better we look, the 
more he'll be pleased." And with this, the old lady ap- 
plied herself to warming up, in a little saucepan, a basin 
full of broth : strong enough, Oliver thought, to furnish 
an ample dinner, when reduced to the regulation strength, 
for three hundred and fifty paupers, at the lowest com- 

" Are you fond of pictures, dear ? " inquired the old 
lady, seeing that Oliver had fixed his eyes, most intently, 
on a portrait which hung against the wall : just opposite 
his chair. 

"I don't quite know, ma'am," said Oliver, without 
taking his eyes from the canvas ; " I have seen so few 
that I hardly know. What a beautiful mild face that 
lady's is ! " 

" Ah ! " said the old lady, " painters always make 
ladies out prettier than they are, or they wouldn't get 
any custom, child. The man that invented the machine 
for taking likenesses might have known that would never 
succeed ; it's a deal too honest. A deal," said the old 
lady, laughing very heartily at her own acuteness. 

" Is — is that a likeness, ma'am ? " said Oliver. 

" Yes," said the old lady, looking up for a moment 
from the broth ; " that's a portrait." 

" Whose, ma'am ? " asked Oliver. 

" Why, really, my dear, I don't know," answered the 
old lady in a good-humored manner. " It's not a like- 
ness of anybody that you or I know, I expect. It seems 
to strike your fancy, dear." 

" It is so very pretty," replied Oliver. 

" Why, sure you're not afraid of it ? " said the old 
lady : observing, in great surprise, the look of awe with 
which the child regarded the painting. 


" Oh no, no," returned Oliver quickly ; " but the eyes 
look so sorrowful ; and where I sit, they seem fixed upon 
me. It makes my heart beat," added Oliver in a low 
voice, " as if it was alive, and wanted to speak to me, 
but couldn't." 

" Lord save us ! " exclaimed the old lady, starting ; 
" don't talk in that way, child. You're weak and ner- 
vous after your illness. Let me wheel your chair round 
to the other side ; and then you won't see it. There ! " 
said the old lady, suiting the action to the word ; " you 
don't see it now, at all events." 

Oliver did see it in his mind's eye as distinctly as if 
he had not altered his position ; but he thought it better 
not to worry the kind old lady ; so he smiled gently when 
she looked at him ; and Mrs. Bedwin, satisfied that he 
felt more comfortable, salted and broke bits of toasted 
bread into the broth, with all the bustle befitting so 
solemn a preparation. Oliver got through it with ex- 
traordinary expedition. He had scarcely swallowed 
the last spoonful, when there came a soft tap at the 
door. " Come in," said the old lady ; and in walked 
Mr. Brownlow. 

Now, the old gentleman came in as brisk as need be ; 
but, he had no sooner raised his spectacles on his fore- 
head, and thrust his hands behind the skirts of his 
dressing-gown to take a good long look at Oliver, than 
his countenance underwent a very great variety of odd 
contortions. Oliver looked very worn and shadowy 
from sickness, and made an ineffectual attempt to stand 
ap, out of respect to his benefactor, which terminated 
in his sinking back into the chair again ; and the fact 
is, if the truth must be told, that Mr. Brownlow's heart, 
being large enough for any six ordinary old gentlemen 


of humane disposition, forced a supply of tears into his 
eyes, by some hydraulic process which we are not suffi- 
ciently philosophical to be in a condition to explain. 

" Poor boy, poor boy ! " said Mr. Bro.wnlow, clearing 
his throat. " I'm rather hoarse this morning, Mrs. Bed- 
win. I'm afraid I have caught cold." 

" I hope not, sir,'* says Mrs. Bedwin. " Everything 
you have had, has been well aired, sir." 

" I don't know, Bedwin. I don't know," said Mr. 
Brownlow ; " I rather think I had a damp napkin at 
dinner-time yesterday ; but never mind that. How do 
you feel, my dear?" 

" Very happy, sir," replied Oliver. " And very grate- 
ful indeed, sir, for your goodness to me." 

" Good boy," said Mr. Brownlow, stoutly. " Have 
you given him any nourishment, Bedwin? Any slops, 

" He has just had a basin of beautiful strong broth, 
sir," replied Mrs. Bedwin : drawing herself up slightly, 
and laying a strong emphasis on the last word : to inti- 
mate that between slops, and broth well compounded, 
there existed no affinity or connection whatsoever. 

" Ugh ! " said Mr. Brownlow, with a slight shudder ; 
" a couple of glasses of port-wine would have done him 
a great deal more good. Wouldn't they, Tom White, 

" My name is Oliver, sir," replied the little invalid : 
with a look of great astonishment. 

" Oliver," said Mr. Brownlow; "Oliver what? Oliver 
White, eh ? " 

« No, sir, Twist, Ohver Twist." 

" Queer name ! " said the old gentleman. " What 
made you tell the magistrate your name was White?" 


" I never told him so, sir," returned Oliver in amaze- 

This sounded so like a falsehood, that the old gentle- 
man looked somewhat sternly in Oliver's face. It was 
impossible to doubt him ; there was truth in every one 
of its thin and sharpened lineaments. 

" Some mistake," said Mr. Brownlow. But, although 
his motive for looking steadily at Oliver no longer ex- 
isted, the old idea of the resemblance between his fea- 
tures and some familiar face came upon him so strongly, 
that he could not withdraw his gaze. 

" I hope you are not angry with me, sir ? " said Oliver, 
raising his eyes beseechingly. 

" No, no," replied the old gentleman. " Why ! what's 
this ? Bedwin, look there ! " 

As he spoke, he pointed hastily to the picture above 
Oliver's head ; and then to the boy's face. There was 
its living copy. The eyes, the head, the mouth ; every 
feature was the same. The expression was, for the in- 
stant, so precisely alike, that the minutest line seemed 
copied with a startling accuracy! 

Oliver knew not the cause of this sudden exclama- 
tion ; for, not being strong enough to bear the start it 
gave him, he fainted away. A weakness on his part, 
which affords the narrative an opportunity of relieving 
the reader from suspense, in behalf of the two young 
pupils of the Merry Old Gentleman ; and of record- 

That when the Dodger, and his accomplished friend 
Master Bates, joined in the hue-and-cry which was 
raised at Oliver's heels, in consequence of their execut- 
ing an illegal conveyance of Mr. Brownlow's personal 
property, as has been already described, they were actu- 


ated by a very laudable and becoming regard for them- 
selves ; and forasmuch as the freedom of the subject 
and the liberty of the individual are among the first 
and proudest boasts of a true-hearted Englishman, so, 
I need hardly beg the reader to observe, that this ac- 
tion should tend to exalt them in the opinion of all 
public and patriotic men, in almost as great a degree 
as this strong proof of their anxiety for their own 
preservation and safety, goes to corroborate and confirm 
the little code of laws which certain profound and sound- 
judging philosophers have laid down as the mainsprings 
of all Nature's deeds and actions : the said philosophers 
very wisely reducing the good lady's proceedings to mat- 
ters of maxim and theory : and, by a very neat and 
pretty compliment to her exalted wisdom and under- 
standing, putting entirely out of sight any considerations 
of heart, or generous impulse and feeling. For, these 
are matters totally beneath a female who is acknowl- 
edged by universal admission to be far above the numer- 
ous little foibles and weaknesses of her sex. 

If I wanted any further proof of the strictly philo- 
sophical nature of the conduct of these young gentlemen 
in their very delicate predicament, I should at once find 
it in the fact (also recorded in a foregoing part of this 
narrative), of their quitting the pursuit, when the gen- 
eral attention was fixed upon Oliver ; and making im- 
mediately for their home by the shortest possible cut. 
Although I do not mean to assert that it is usually the 
practice of renowned and learned sages, to shorten the 
road to any great conclusion ; their course indeed being 
rather to lengthen the distance by various circumlocu- 
tions and discursive staggerings, like unto those in which 
drunken men under the pressure of a too mighty flow 


of ideas, are prone to indulge ; still, I do mean to say, 
and do saj distinctly, that it is the invariable practice 
of many mighty philosophers, in carrying out their 
theories, to evince great wisdom and foresight in pro- 
viding against every possible contingency which can be 
supposed at all likely to affect themselves. Thus, to 
do a great right, you may do a little wrong ; and you 
may take any means which the end to be attained, will 
justify ; the amount of the right, or the amount of the 
wrong, or indeed the distinction between the two, being 
left entirely to the philosopher concerned ; to be settled 
and determined by his clear, comprehensive, and impar- 
tial view of his own particular case. 

It was not until the two boys had scoured, with great 
rapidity, through a most intricate maze of narrow streets 
and courts, that they ventured to halt by one consent, 
beneath a low and dark archway. Having remained 
silent here, just long enough to recover breath to speak, 
Master Bates uttered an exclamation of amusement and 
dehght ; and bursting into an uncontrollable fit of laugh- 
ter, flung himself upon a door-step, and rolled thereon in 
a transport of mirth. 

" What's the matter ? " inquired the Dodger. 

" Ha ! ha ! ha ! " roared Charley Bates. 

" Hold your noise," remonstrated the Dodger, look- 
ing cautiously round. " Do you want to be grabbed, 
stupid ? " 

" I can't help it," said Charley, " I can't help it ! To 
see him splitting away at that pace, and cutting round 
the corners, and knocking up again the posts, and start- 
ing on again as if he was made of iron as well as 
them, and me with the wipe in my pocket, singing out 
arter him — oh, my eye ! " The vivid imagination of 


Master Bates, presented the scene before him in too 
strong colors. As he arrived at this apostrophe, he 
again rolled upon the door-step, and laughed louder 
than before. 

" What '11 Fagin say ? " inquired the Dodger ; taking 
advantage of the next interval of breathlessness on the 
part of his friend to propound the question. 

" What ? " repeated Charley Bates. 

" Ah, what ? " said the Dodger. 

" Why, what should he say ? " inquired Charley : stop- 
ping rather suddenly in his merriment ; for the Dodger's 
manner was impressive. " What should he say ? " 

Mr. Dawkins whistled for a couple of minutes ; then, 
taking off his hat, scratched his head, and nodded thrice. 

" What do you mean ? " said Charley. 

" Toor rul lol loo, gammon and spinnage, the frog he 
wouldn't, and high cockolorum," said the Dodger : with 
a slight sneer on his intellectual countenance. 

This was explanatory, but not satisfactory. Master 
Bates felt it so ; and again said, " What do you mean ? " 

The Dodger made no reply; but putting his hat on 
again and gathering the skirts of his long-tailed coat 
under his arm, thrust his tongue into his cheek, slapped 
the bridge of his nose some half-dozen times in a familiar 
but expressive manner ; and turning on his heel slunk 
down the court. Master Bates followed, with a thought- 
ful countenance. 

The noise of footsteps on the creaking stairs, a few 
minutes after the occurrence of this conversation, roused 
the merry old gentleman as he sat over the fire with a 
saveloy and a small loaf in his left hand ; a pocket-knife 
in his right ; and a pewter pot on the trivet. There was 
a ra^^cally smile on his white face as he turned round ; 


and, looking sharply out from under his thick red eye- 
brows, bent his ear towards the door, and listened in- 

" Why, how's this ? " muttered the Jew : changing 
countenance ; " only two of 'em ? Where's the third ? 
They can't have got into trouble. Hark ! " 

The footsteps approached nearer ; they reached the 
landing. The door was slowly opened ; and the Dodger 
and Charley Bates entered, closing it behind them. 




" Where's Oliver ? " said the furious Jew rising with 
a menacing look. " Where's the boy ? " 

The young thieves eyed their preceptor as if they 
were alarmed at his violence ; and looked uneasily at 
each other. But they made no reply, 

" What's become of the boy ? " said the Jew, seizing 
the Dodger tightly by the collar, and threatening him 
with horrid imprecations. " Speak out, or I'll throttle 

Mr. Fagin looked so very much in earnest, that 
Charley Bates, who deemed it prudent in all cases to be 
on the safe side, and who conceived it by no means im- 
probable that it might be his turn to be throttled second, 
dropped upon his knees, and raised a loud, well-sustained, 
and continuous roar — something between a mad bull 
and a speaking trumpet. 

" Will you speak ? " thundered the Jew : shaking the 
Dodger so much that his keeping in the big coat at all 
seemed perfectly miraculous. 

" Why, the traps have got him, and that's all about 


it," said the Dodger, sullenly. " Come, let go o' me, will 
you ! " And, swinging himself, at one jerk, clean out of 
the big coat, which he left in the Jew's hands, the Dodger 
snatched up the toasting-fork, and made a pass at the 
merry old gentleman's waistcoat ; which, if it had taken 
effect, would have let a little more merriment out, than 
could have been easily replaced in a month or two. 

The Jew stepped back, in this emergency, with more 
agility than could have been anticipated in a man of his 
apparent decrepitude ; and, seizing up the pot, prepared 
to hurl it at his assailant's head. But, Charley Bates, 
at this moment, calling his attention by a perfectly ter- 
rific howl, he suddenly altered its destination, and flung 
it full at that young gentleman. 

" Why, what the blazes is in the wind now ! " growled 
a deep voice. " Who pitched that 'ere at me ? It's 
well it's the beer, and not the pot, as hit me, or I'd have 
settled somebody. I might have know'd, as nobody but 
an infernal, rich, plundering, thundering old Jew, could 
afford to throw away any drink but water — and not 
that, unless he done the River Company every quarter. 
Wot's it all about, Fagin ? D — me, if my neck-handker- 
cher a'n't lined with beer ! Come in, you sneaking war- 
mint ; wot are you stopping outside for, as if you was 
ashamed of your master ! Come in ! " 

The man who growled out these words, was a stoutly- 
built fellow of about five-and-thirty, in a black velveteen 
coat, very soiled drab breeches, lace-up half boots, and 
gray cotton stockings, which enclosed a bulky pair of 
legs, with large swelling calves ; — the kind of legs, 
which in such costume, always look in an unfinished and 
incomplete state without a set of fetters to garnish them. 
He had a brown hat on his head, and a dirty belcher 


handkercliief round his neck : with the long frayed ends 
of which, he smeared the beer from his face as he spoke. 
He disclosed, when he had done so, a broad heavy coun- 
tenance with a beard of three days' growth, and two 
scowling eyes ; one of which, displayed various parti- 
colored symptoms of having been recently damaged by 
a blow. 

" Come in, d'ye hear ? " growled this engaging ruffian. 

A white shaggy dog, with his face scratched and torn 
in twenty different places, skulked into the room. 

" Why didn't you come in afore ? " said the man. 
" You're getting too proud to own me afore company, are 
you ? Lie down ! " 

This command was accompanied with a kick, which 
sent the animal to the other end of the room. He ap- 
peared well used to it, however; for he coiled himself 
up in a corner very quietly, without uttering a sound ; 
and, winking his very ill-looking eyes about twenty times 
in a minute, appeared to occupy himself in taking a sur- 
vey of the apartment. 

" What are you up to ? Ill-treating the boys, you 
covetous, avaricious, in-sa-ti-a-ble old fence?" said the 
man, seating himself deliberately. " I wonder they don't 
murder you ! /would if I was them. If I'd been your 
'prentice, I'd have done it long ago ; and — no, I couldn't 
have sold you afterwards, though, for you're fit for noth- 
ing but keeping as a curiosity of ugliness in a glass 
bottle, and I suppose they don't blow glass bottles large 

" Hush ! hush ! Mr. Sikes," said the Jew, trembling ; 
" don't speak so loud." 

" None of your mistering," replied the ruffian ; " you 
always mean mischief when you come that. You know 


mj name : out with it ! I shan't disgrace it when the 
time comes." 

"Well, well, then — Bill Sikes," said the Jew, with 
abject humility. "You seem out of humor, Bill." 

" Perhaps I am," replied Sikes ; " I should think you 
was rather out of sorts too, unless you mean as little 
harm when you throw pewter pots about, as you do when 
you blab and " — 

" Are you mad ? " said the Jew, catching the man by 
the sleeve, and pointing towards the boys. 

Mr. Sikes contented himself with tying an imaginary 
knot under his left ear, and jerking his head over on the 
right shoulder ; a piece of dumb show which the Jew 
appeared to understand perfectly. He then, in cant 
terms with which his whole conversation was plenti- 
fully besprinkled, but which would be quite unintelli- 
gible if they were recorded here, demanded a glass of 

" And mind you don't poison it," said Mr. Sikes, lay- 
ing his hat upon the table. 

This was said in jest ; but if the speaker could have 
seen the evil leer with which the Jew bit his pale lip as 
he turned round to the cupboard, he might have thought 
the caution not wholly unnecessary, or the wish (at all 
events) to improve upon the distiller's ingenuity not 
very far from the old gentleman's merry heart. 

After swallowing two or three glasses of spirits, Mr. 
Sikes condescended to take some notice of the young 
gentlemen ; which gracious act led to a conversation, in 
which the cause and manner of Oliver's capture were 
circumstantially detailed, with such alterations and im- 
provements on the truth, as to the Dodger appeared 
most advisable under the circumstances. 


" I'm afraid," said the Jew, " that he may say some- 
thing which will get us into trouble." 

" That's very likely," returned Sikes with a malicious 
grin. " You're blowed upon, Fagin." 

" And I'm afraid, you see," added the Jew, speaking 
as if he had not noticed the interruption ; and regarding 
the other closely as he did so, — " I'm afraid that, if the 
game was up with us, it might be up with a good many 
more, and that it would come out rather worse for you 
than it would for me, my dear." 

The man started, and turned round upon the Jew. 
But the old gentleman's shoulders were shrugged up to 
his ears ; and his eyes were vacantly staring on the 
opposite wall. 

There was a long pause. Every member of the re- 
spectable coterie appeared i^lunged in his own reflections; 
not excepting the dog, who by a certain malicious licking 
of his lips seemed to be meditating an attack upon the 
legs of the first gentleman or lady he might encounter in 
the streets when he went out. 

" Somebody must find out wot's been done at the 
office," said Mr. Sikes in a much lower tone than he had 
taken since he came in. 

The Jew nodded assent. 

" If he hasn't peached, and is committed, there's no 
fear till he comes out again," said Mr. Sikes, " and then 
he must be taken care on. You must get hold of him, 

Again the Jew nodded. 

The prudence of this line of action, indeed, was 
obvious; but, unfortunately, there was one very strong 
objection to its being adopted. This was, that the 
Dodger, and Charley Bates, and Fagin, and Mr. Wil- 


liam Sikes, happened, one and all, to entertain a violent 
and deeply-rooted antipathy to going near a police-office, 
on any ground or pretext whatever. 

How long they might have sat and looked at each 
other, in a state of uncertainty not the most pleasant of 
its kind, it is difficult to guess. It is not necessary to 
make any guesses on the subject, however ; for the sud- 
den entrance of the two young ladies whom Oliver had 
seen on a former occasion, caused the conversation to 
flow afresh. 

" The very thing ! " said the Jew. " Bet will go ; 
won't you, my dear ? " 

" Wheres ? " inquired the young lady. 

" Only just up to the office, my dear," said the Jew 

It is due to the young lady to say that she did not pos- 
itively affirm that she would not, but that she merely 
expressed an emphatic and earnest desire to be "blessed" 
if she would ; a polite and dehcate evasion of the request, 
which shows the young lady to have been possessed of 
that natural good-breeding which cannot bear to inflict 
upon a fellow-creature, the pain of a direct and pointed 

The Jew's countenance fell. He turned from this 
young lady, who was gayly, not to say gorgeously attired, 
in a red gown, green boots, and yellow curl-papers, to the 
other female. 

" Nancy, my dear," said the Jew in a soothing man- 
ner, " what do you say ? " 

" That it won't do ! so it's no use a-trying it on, Fagin," 
replied Nancy. 

" What do you mean by that ? " said Mr. Sikes, look- 
ing up in a surly manner. 

VOL. I. 10 


" What I say, Bill," replied the lady collectedly. 

" Why, you're just the very person for it," reasoned 
Mr. Sikes : " nobody about here knows anything of you." 

" And as I don't want 'em to, neither," replied Nancy 
in the same composed manner, " it's rather more no than 
yes with me, Bill." 

" She'll go, Fagin," said Sikes. 

'* No, she won't, Fagin," said Nancy. 

" Yes she will, Fagin," said Sikes. 

And Mr. Sikes was right. By dint of alternate threats, 
promises, and bribes, the lady in question was ultimately 
prevailed upon to undertake the commission. She was 
not, indeed, withheld by the same considerations as her 
agreeable friend ; for, having very recently removed into 
the neighborhood of Field-lane from the remote but gen- 
teel suburb of Ratcliffe, she was not under the same 
apprehension of being recognized by any of her numer- 
ous acquaintance. 

Accordingly, with a clean white apron tied over her 
gown, and her curl-papers tucked up under a straw bon- 
net, — both articles of dress being provided from the 
Jew's inexhaustible stock, — Miss Nancy prepared to 
issue forth on her errand. 

" Stop a minute, my dear," said the Jew, producing a 
little covered basket. " Carry that in one hand. It 
looks more respectable, my dear." 

" Give her a door-key to carry in her t'other one, 
Fagin," said Sikes ; " it looks real and genivine like." 

" Yes, yes, my dear, so it does," said the Jew, hanging 
a large street-door key on the forefinger of the young 
lady's right hand. " There ; very good ! Very good 
indeed, my dear ! " said the Jew, rubbing his hands. 

" Oh, my brother ! My poor, dear, sweet, innocent 


little brother ! " exclaimed Nancy, bursting into tears, 
and wringing the little basket and the street-door key in 
an agony of distress. " What has become of him ! 
Where have they taken him to ! Oh, do have pity, 
and tell me what's been done with the dear boy, gentle- 
men ; do, gentlemen, if you please, gentlemen ! " 

Having uttered these words in a most lamentable and 
heart-broken tone : to the immeasurable delight of her 
hearers : Miss Nancy paused, winked to the company, 
nodded smilingly round, and disappeared. 

" Ah ! she's a clever girl, my dears," said the Jew, 
turning round to his young friends, and shaking his head 
gravely, as if in mute admonition to them to follow the 
bright example they had just beheld. 

" She's an honor to her sex," said Mr. Sikes filling 
his glass, and smiting the table with his enormous fist. 
" Here's her health, and wishing they was all like her ! " 

While these, and many other encomiums, were being 
passed on the accomplished Nancy, that young lady made 
the best of her way to the police-office ; whither, notwith- 
standing a little natural timidity consequent upon walking 
through the streets alone and unprotected, she arrived in 
perfect safety shortly afterwards. 

Entering by the back way, she tapped softly with the 
key at one of the cell-doors, and listened. There was no 
sound within : so she coughed and listened again. Still 
there was no reply : so she spoke. 

" Nolly, dear ? " murmured Nancy in a gentle voice ; 
« Nolly ? " 

There was nobody inside but a miserable shoeless crim- 
inal, who had been taken up for playing the flute, and 
who, the offence against society having been clearly 
proved, had been very properly committed by Mr. Fang 


to the House of Correction for one month ; with the 
appropriate and amusing remark, that since he had so 
much breath to spare, it would be more wholesomely 
expended on the treadmill than in a musical instrument. 
He made no answer : being occupied in mentally bewail- 
ing the loss of the flute, which had been confiscated for 
the use of the county ; so Nancy passed on to the next 
cell, and knocked there. 

" Well ! " cried a faint and feeble voice. 

" Is there a little boy here ? " inquired Nancy, with a 
preliminary sob. 

" No," replied the voice ; " God forbid ! " 

This was a vagrant of sixty-five, who was going to 
prison for not playing the flute ; or, in other words, for 
begging in the streets, and doing nothing for his liveli- 
hood. In the next cell, was another man, who was going 
to the same prison for hawking tin saucepans without a 
license ; thereby doing something for his living, in defiance 
of the Stamp-ofiice. 

But, as neither of these criminals answered to the 
name of Oliver, or knew anything about him, Nancy 
made straight up to the bluff officer in the striped waist- 
coat ; and with the most piteous wailings and lamenta- 
tions, rendered more piteous by a prompt and efficient 
use of the street-door key and the little basket, demanded 
her own dear brother. 

" / haven't got him, my dear," said the old man. 

" Where is he ? " screamed Nancy, in a distracted man- 

" Why, the gentleman's got him," replied the officer. 

" What gentleman ? Oh, gracious heavens ! what gen- 
tleman ? " exclaimed Nancy. 

In reply to this incoherent questioning, the old man 


informed the deeply affected sister that Oliver had been 
taken ill in the office, and discharged in consequence of 
a witness having proved the robbery to have been com- 
mitted by another boy, not in custody ; and that the pros- 
ecutor had carried him away, in an insensible condition, 
to his own residence : of and concerning which, all the 
informant knew was, that it was somewhere at Penton- 
ville, he having heard that word mentioned in the direc- 
tions to the coachman. 

In a dreadful state of doubt and uncertainty, the ago- 
nized young woman staggered to the gate, and then, ex- 
changing her faltering walk for a good, swift, steady run, 
returned by the most devious and complicated route she 
could think of, to the domicile of the Jew. 

Mr. Bill Sikes no sooner heard the account of the 
expedition delivered, than he very hastily called up the 
white dog, and, putting on his hat, expeditiously de- 
parted : without devoting any time to the formality of 
wishing the company good-morning. 

" We must know where he is, my dears ; he must be 
found," said the Jew, greatly excited. " Charley, do 
nothing but skulk about, till you bring home some news 
of him ! Nancy, my dear, I must have him found. I 
trust to you, my dear, — to you and the Artful for every- 
thing ! Stay, stay," added the Jew, unlocking a drawer 
with a shaking hand ; " there's money, my dears. I 
shall shut up this shop to-night. You'll know where to 
find me ! Don't stop here a minute. Not an instant, 
my dears ! " 

With these words, he pushed them from the room; 
and carefully double-locking and barring the door behind 
them, drew from its place of concealment the box which 
he had unintentionally disclosed to Oliver. Then, he 


hastily proceeded to dispose the watches and jewelry 
beneath his clothing. 

A rap at the door, startled him in this occupation. 
" Who's there ? " he cried in a shrill tone. 

" Me ! " replied the voice of the Dodger, through the 

" What now ? " cried the Jew impatiently. 

" Is he to be kidnapped to the other ken, Nancy says ? " 
inquired the Dodger. 

*' Yes," replied the Jew, " wherever she lays hands on 
him. Find him, find him out, that's all ! I shall know 
what to do next; never fear." 

The boy murmured a reply of intelligence ; and hur- 
ried down-stairs after his companions. 

" He has not peached so far," said the Jew as he pur- 
sued his occupation. " If he means to blab us among his 
new friends, we may stop his mouth yet." 




Oliver soon recovering from the fainting-fit into 
which Mr. Brownlow's abrupt exclamation had thrown 
him, the subject of the picture was carefully avoided, 
both by the old gentleman and Mrs. Bedwin, in the 
conversation that ensued : which indeed bore no refer- 
ence to Oliver's history or prospects, but was confined 
to such topics as might amuse without exciting him. He 
was still too weak to get up to breakfast ; but, when he 
came down into the housekeeper's room next day, his 
first act was to cast an eager glance at the wall, in the 
hope of again looking on the face of the beautiful lady. 
His expectations were disappointed, however, for the pic- 
ture had been removed. 

" Ah ! " said the housekeeper, watching the direction 
of Oliver's eyes. " It is gone, you see." 

" I see it is, ma'am," replied Oliver. " Why have 
they taken it away ? " 

" It has been taken down, child, because Mr. Brown- 
low said, that as it seemed to worry you, perhaps it 
might prevent your getting well, you know," rejoined 
the old lady. 


" Oh, no, indeed. It didn't worry me, ma'am," said 
Oliver. " I liked to see it. I quite loved it." 

" Well, well ! " said the old lady, good-humoredly ; 
" you get well as fast as ever you can, dear, and it shall 
be hung up again. There ! I promise you that ! Now, 
let us talk about something else." 

This was all the information Oliver could obtain about 
the picture at that time. As the old lady had been so 
kind to him in his illness, he endeavored to think no 
more of the subject just then ; so he listened at- 
tentively, to a great many stories she told him, about 
an amiable and handsome daughter of hers, who was 
married to an amiable and handsome man, and lived 
in the country ; and about a son, who was clerk to a 
merchant in the West Indies ; and who was, also, such 
a good young man, and wrote such dutiful letters home 
four times a-year, that it brought the tears into her 
eyes, to talk about them. When the old lady had ex- 
patiated, a long time, on the excellences of her children, 
and the merits of her kind, good husband besides, who 
had been dead and gone, poor dear soul ! just six-and- 
twenty years, it was time to have tea. After tea she 
began to teaph Oliver cribbage : which he learnt as 
quickly as she could teach : and at which game they 
played, with great interest and gravity, until it was 
time for the invalid to have some warm wine and 
water, with a slice of dry toast, and then to go coseyly 
to bed. 

They were happy days, those of Oliver's recovery. 
Everything was so quiet, and neat, and orderly ; every- 
body so kind and gentle ; that after the noise and tur- 
bulence in the midst of which he had always lived, it 
seemed like Heaven itself. He was no sooner strong 


enough to put his clothes on, properly, than Mr. Brown- 
low caused a complete new suit, and a new cap, and a 
new pair of shoes, to be provided for him. As Oliver 
was told that he might do what he liked with the old 
clothes, he gave them to a servant who had been very- 
kind to him, and asked her to sell them to a Jew, and 
keep the money for herself. This she very readily did ; 
and, as Oliver looked out of the parlor window, and saw 
the Jew roll them up in his bag and walk away, he felt 
quite dehghted to think that they were safely gone, and 
that there was now no possible danger of his ever being 
able to wear them again. They were sad rags, to tell 
the truth ; and Oliver had never had a new suit be- 

One evening, about a week after the affair of the pic- 
ture, as he was sitting talking to Mrs. Bedwin, there came 
a message down from Mr. Brownlow, that if Oliver Twist 
felt pretty well, he should like to see him in his study, and 
talk to him a little while. 

" Bless us, and save us ! Wash your hands, and let 
me part your hair nicely for you, child," said Mrs. Bed- 
win. " Dear heart alive ! If we had known he would 
have asked for you, we would have put you a clean col- 
lar on, and made you as smart as sixpence ! " 

Oliver did as the old lady bade him ; and, although 
she lamented grievously, meanwhile, that there was not 
even time to crimp the little frill that bordered his shirt- 
collar ; he looked so delicate and handsome, despite that 
important personal advantage, that she went so far as to 
say : looking at him with great complacency from head 
to foot : that she really didn't think it would have been 
possible, on the longest notice, to have made much differ- 
ence in him for the better. 


Thus encouraged, Oliver tapped at the study door. 
On Mr. Brownlow calling to him to come in, he found 
himself in a little back room, quite full of books : with a 
window, looking into some pleasant little gardens. There 
was a table drawn up before the window, at which Mr. 
Brownlow was seated reading. When he saw Oliver, 
he pushed the book away from him, and told him to 
come near the table, and sit down. Oliver complied ; 
marvelling where the people could be found to read 
such a great number of books as seemed to be written 
to make the world wiser. Which is still a marvel to 
more experienced people than Oliver Twist, every day 
of their lives. 

" There are a good many books, are there not, my 
boy ? " said Mr. Brownlow : observing the curiosity with 
which Oliver surveyed the shelves that reached from the 
floor to the ceiling. 

'' A great number, sir," replied Oliver. " I never saw 
so many." 

" You shall read them, if you behave well," said the 
old gentleman kindly ; " and you will like that, better 
than looking at the outsides, — that is, in some cases ; 
because there are books of which the backs and covers 
are by far the best parts." 

" I suppose they are those heavy ones, sir," said 
Oliver, pointing to some large quartos, with a good deal 
of gilding about the binding. 

" Not always those," said the old gentleman, patting 
Oliver on the head, and smiling as he did so ; " there are 
other equally heavy ones, though of a much smaller size. 
How should you hke to grow up a clever man, and write 
books, eh?" 

" I think I would rather read them, sir," replied OHver. 


" What ! wouldn't you like to be a book-writer ? " said 
the old gentleman. 

Oliver considered a little while ; and at last said, he 
should think it would be a much better thing to be 
a bookseller ; upon which the old gentleman laughed 
heartily, and declared he had said a very good thing. 
Which Oliver felt glad to have done, though he by no 
means knew what it was. 

"Well, well," said the old gentleman, composing his 
features. " Don't be afraid ! We won't make an author 
of you, while there's an honest trade to be learnt, or 
brick-making to turn to." 

" Thank you, sir," said Oliver. At the earnest man- 
ner of his reply, the old gentleman laughed again ; and 
said something about a curious instinct, which Oliver, 
not understanding, paid no very great attention to. 

" Now," said Mr. Brownlow, speaking if possible in a 
kinder, but at the same time in a much more serious 
maiyier, than Oliver had ever known him assume yet, 
" I want you to pay great attention, my boy, to what I 
am going to say. I shall talk to you without any re- 
serve ; because I am sure you are as well able to under- 
stand me, as many older persons would be." 

" Oh, don't tell me you are going to send me away, 
sir, pray ! " exclaimed Oliver, alarmed at the serious 
tone of the old gentleman's commencement ! " Don't 
turn me out of doors to wander in the streets again. 
Let me stay here, and be a servant. Don't send me 
back to the wretched place I came from. Have mercy 
upon a poor boy, sir ! " 

" My dear child," said the old gentleman, moved by 
the warmth of Oliver's sudden appeal ; " you need not 
be afraid of my deserting you, unless you give me cause." 


" I never, never will, sir," interposed Oliver. 

" I hope not," rejoined the old gentleman. " I do not 
think you ever will. I have been deceived, before, in 
the objects whom I have endeavored to benefit; but I 
feel strongly disposed to trust you, nevertheless ; and I 
am more interested in your behalf than I can well ac- 
count for, even to myself. The persons on whom I have 
bestowed my dearest love, lie deep in their graves ; but, 
although the happiness and delight of my life lie buried 
there too, I have not made a coffin of my heart, and 
sealed it up, forever, on my best affections. Deep af- 
fliction has but strengthened and refined them." 

As the old gentleman said this in a low voice : more 
to himself than to his companion : and as he remained 
silent for a short time afterwards : Oliver sat quite still. 

" Well, well ! " said the old gentleman at length, in a 
more cheerful tone, " I only say this, because you have a 
young heart ; and knowing that I have suffered great 
pain and sorrow, you will be more careful, perhaps, not 
to wound me again. You say you are an orphan, with- 
out a friend in the world ; all the inquiries I have been 
able to make, confirm the statement. Let me hear your 
story ; where you came from ; who brought you up ; 
and how you got into the company in which I found you. 
Speak the truth ; and you shall not be friendless while I 

Oliver's sobs checked his utterance for some minutes ; 
when he was on the point of beginning to relate how he 
had been brought up at the farm, and carried to the 
workhouse by Mr. Bumble, a peculiarly impatient little 
double-knock was heard at the street door ; and the ser- 
vant, running up-stairs, announced Mr. Grimwig. 

" Is he coming up ? " inquired Mr. Brownlow. 


" Yes, sir," replied the servant. " He asked if there 
were any muflans in the house ; and, when I told him 
yes, he said he had come to tea." 

Mr. Brownlow smiled ; and, turning to Oliver, said 
that Mr. Grimwig was an old friend of his, and he must 
not mind his being a little rough in his manners ; for he 
was a worthy creature at bottom, as he had reason to 

" Shall I go down-stairs, sir ? " inquired Oliver. 

" No," replied Mr. Brownlow, " I would rather you 
remained here." 

At this moment, there walked into the room : supporting 
himself by a thick stick : a stout old gentleman, rather 
lame in one leg, who was dressed in a blue coat, striped 
waistcoat, nankeen breeches and gaiters, and a broad- 
brimmed white hat, with the sides turned up with green. 
A very small-plaited shirt-frill stuck out from his waist- 
coat ; and a very long steel watch-chain, with nothing but 
a key at the end, dangled loosely below it. The ends of 
his white neckerchief Avere twisted into a ball about the 
size of an orange ; the variety of shapes into which his 
countenance was twisted, defy description. He had a 
manner of screwing his head on one side when he spoke : 
and of looking out of the corners of his eyes at the same 
time : which irresistibly reminded the beholder of a 
parrot. In this attitude, he fixed himself, the moment 
he made his appearance ; and, holding out a small piece 
of orange-peel at arm's length, exclaimed, in a growling, 
discontented voice, 

" Look here ! do you see this ! Isn't it a most won- 
derful and extraordinary thing that I can't call at a man's 
house but I find a piece of this poor surgeon's-friend on 
the staircase ? I've been lamed with orange-peel once, 


and I know orange-peel will be my death at last. It 
will, sir ; orange-peel will be my death, or I'll be eon- 
tent to eat my own head, sir ! " 

This was the handsome offer with which Mr. Grimwig 
backed and confirmed nearly every assertion he made ; 
and it was the more singular in his case, because, even 
admitting for the sake of argument, the possibility of 
scientific improvements being ever brought to that pass, 
which will enable a gentleman to eat his own head in 
the event of his being so disposed ; Mr. Grimwig's head 
was such a particularly large one, that the most sanguine 
man alive could hardly entertain a hope of being able to 
get through it at a sitting — to put entirely out of the 
question, a very thick coating of powder. 

" I'll eat my head, sir," repeated Mr. Grimwig, striking 
his stick upon the ground. " Hallo ; what's that ! " look- 
ing at Oliver, and retreating a pace or two. 

" This is young Oliver Twist, whom we were speaking 
about," said Mr. Brownlow. 

Oliver bowed. 

" You don't mean to say that's the boy who had the 
fever, I hope ? " said Mr. Grimwig, recoiling a little 
more. " Wait a minute ! Don't speak ! Stop " — con- 
tinued Mr. Grimwig, abruptly, losing all dread of the 
fever in his triumph at the discovery ; " that's the boy 
who had the orange ! If that's not the boy, sir, who had 
the orange, and threw this bit of peel upon the staircase, 
I'll eat my head, and his too." 

" No, no, he has not had one," said Mr. Brownlow, 
laughing. " Come ! Put down your hat ; and speak to 
my young friend." 

"" I feel strongly on this subject, sir," said the irritable 
old gentleman, drawing off his gloves. " There's always 


more or less orange-peel on the pavement in our street ; 
and I hiow it's put there by the surgeon's boy at the 
corner. A young woman stumbled over a bit last night, 
and fell against my garden-railings ; directly she got up 
I saw her look towards his infernal red lamp with the 
pantomime-light. ' Don't go to him,' I called out of the 
window, ' he's an assassin ! A man-trap ! ' So he is. If 

he is not " Here the irascible old gentleman gave 

a great knock on the ground with his stick ; which was 
always understood, by his friends, to imply the customary 
offer, whenever it was not expressed in words. Then, still 
keeping his stick in his hand, he sat down ; and, opening 
a double eye-glass, which he wore attached to a broad 
black ribbon, took a view of Oliver : who, seeing that he 
was the object of inspection, colored, and bowed again. 

" That's the boy, is it ? " said Mr. Grimwig, at length. 

" That is the boy," replied Mr. Brownlow. 

" How are you, boy ? " said Mr. Grimwig. 

"A great deal better, thank you, sir," replied Oliver. 

Mr. Brownlow, seeming to apprehend that his singular 
friend was about to say something disagreeable, asked 
Oliver to step down-stairs and tell Mrs. Bedwin they 
were ready for tea ; which, as he did not half like the 
visitor's manner, he was very happy to do. 

" He is a nice-looking boy, is he not ? " inquired Mr. 

" I don't know," replied Mr. Grimwig, pettishly. 

" Don't know ? " 

" No. I don't know. I never see any difference in 
boys. I only know two sorts of boys. Mealy boys, and 
beef-faced boys." 

" And which is Oliver ? " 

" Mealy. I know a friend who has a beef-faced boy ; 


a fine boy, they call liim ; with a round head, and red 
cheeks, and glaring eyes : a horrid boy ; with a body 
and limbs that appear to be swelling out of the seams of 
his blue clothes ; with the voice of a pilot, and the appe- 
tite of a wolf. I know him ! The wretch ! " 

" Come," said Mr. Brownlow, " these are not the char- 
acteristics of young Oliver Twist ; so he needn't excite 
your wrath." 

^'They are not," replied Mr. Grimwig. "He may 
have worse." 

Here, Mr. Brownlow coughed impatiently ; which ap- 
peared to afford Mr. Grimwig the most exquisite delight. 

" He may have worse, I say," repeated Mr. Grimwig. 
" Where does he come from ? Who is he ? What is 
he ? He has had a fever. What of that ? Fevers are 
not peculiar to good people ; are they ? Bad people 
have fevers sometimes ; haven't they, eh ? I knew a 
man who was hung in Jamaica for murdering his master. 
He had had a fever six times ; he wasn't recommended 
to mercy on that account. Pooh ! nonsense ! " 

Now, the fact was, that, in the inmost recesses of his 
own heart, Mr. Grimwig was strongly disposed to admit 
that Oliver's appearance and manner were unusually 
prepossessing ; but he had a strong appetite for contra- 
diction : sharpened on this occasion by the finding of 
the orange-peel ; and inwardly determining that no man 
should dictate to him whether a boy was well-looking 
or not, he had resolved, from the first, to oppose his 
friend. When Mr. Brownlow admitted that on no one 
point of inquiry could he yet return a satisfactory an- 
swer ; and that he had postponed any investigation into 
Oliver's previous history until he thought the boy was 
strong enough to bear it; Mr. Grimwig chuckled ma- 


liciouslj. And he demanded, with a sneer, whether the 
housekeeper was in the habit of counting the plate at 
night ; because, if she didn't find a table-spoon or two 
missing some sunshiny morning, why, he would be con- 
tent to — and so forth. 

All this, Mr. Brownlow, although himself somewhat 
of an impetuous gentleman : knowing his friend's pecu- 
Harities : bore with great good-humor ; as Mr. Grimwig, 
at tea, was graciously pleased to express his entire ap- 
proval of the muffins, matters went on very smoothly ; 
and Oliver, who made one of the party, began to feel 
more at his ease than he had yet done in the fierce old 
gentleman's presence. 

" And when are you going to hear a full, true, and 
particular account of the life and adventures of Oliver 
Twist ? " asked Grimwig of Mr. Brownlow, at the con- 
clusion of the meal : looking sideways at Oliver, as he 
resumed the subject. 

" To-morrow morning," replied Mr. Brownlow. " I 
would rather he was alone with me at the time. Come 
up to me to-morrow morning at ten o'clock, my dear." 

" Yes, sir," replied Oliver. He answered with some 
hesitation, because he was confused by Mr. Grimwig's 
looking so hard at him. 

" ril tell you what," whispered that gentleman to Mr. 
Brownlow ; " he won't come up to you to-morrow morn- 
ing. I saw him hesitate. He is deceiving you, my 
good friend. 

" I'll swear he is not," replied Mr. Brownlow, warmly. 

" If he is not," said Mr. Grimwig, " I'll " and 

down went the stick. 

" I'll answer for that boy's truth with my hfe ! " said 
Mr. Brownlow, knocking the table. 

VOL. I. 11 


" And I for his falsehood with my head ! " rejoined 
Mr. Grimwig, knocking the table also. 

" We shall see," said Mr. Brownlow, checking his ris- 
ing anger. 

" We will," replied Mr. Grimwig, with a provoking 
smile ; " we will." 

As fate would have it, Mrs. Bed win chanced to bring 
in, at this moment, a small parcel of books : which Mr. 
Brownlow had that morning purchased of the identical 
bookstall-keeper, who has abeady figured in this his- 
tory ; having laid them on the table, she prepared to 
leave the room. 

" Stop the boy, INIi's. Bedwin ! " said Mr. Brownlow ; 
" there is something to go back." 

" He has gone, sir," replied Mrs. Bedwin. 

" Call after him," said JNIr. Brownlow ; " it's particular. 
He is a poor man, and they are not paid for. There 
are some books to be taken back, too." 

The street-door was opened. Oliver ran one way ; 
and the girl ran another ; and Mrs. Bedwin stood on 
the step and screamed for the boy ; but there was no 
boy in sight. Oliver and the girl returned, in a 
breathless state, to report that there were no tidings 
of him. 

" Dear me, I am very sorry for that," exclaimed 
Mr. Brownlow ; " I particularly wished those books to 
be returned to-night." 

" Send Oliver with them," said Mr. Grimwig, with an 
ironical smile ; " he will be sure to deliver them safely, 
you know." 

" Yes ; do let me take them, if you please, sir," said 
Oliver. "I'll run all the way, sir." 

The old gentleman was just going to say that OHver 


should not go out on any account ; when a most malicious 
cough from Mr. Grimwig determined him that he should ; 
and that, by his prompt discharge of the commission, he 
should prove to him the injustice of his suspicions : on 
this head at least : at once. 

" You shall go, my dear," said the old gentleman. 
" The books are on a chair by my table. Fetch them 

Oliver, delighted to be of use, brought down the books 
under his arm in a great bustle ; and waited, cap in hand, 
to hear what message he was to take. 

" You are to say," said Mr. Brownlow, glancing stead- 
ily at Grimwig ; you are to say that you have brought 
those books back ; and that you have come to pay the 
four pound ten I owe him. This is a five-pound note, 
so you will have to bring me back ten shillings change." 

" I won't be ten minutes, sir," replied Oliver, eagerly. 
Having buttoned up the bank-note in his jacket-pocket, 
and placed the books carefully under his arm, he made 
a respectful bow, and left the room. Mrs. Bedwin fol- 
lowed him to the street-door, giving him many directions 
about the nearest way, and the name of the bookseller, 
and the name of the street : all of which Oliver said he 
clearly understood; and, having superadded many injunc- 
tions to be sure and not take cold, the old lady at length 
permitted him to depart. 

" Bless his sweet face ! " said the old lady, looking 
after him. "I can't bear, somehow, to let him go out 
of my sight." 

At this moment, Oliver looked gayly round, and nodded 
before he turned the corner. The old lady smilingly re- 
turned his salutation, and, closing the door, went back to 
her own room. 


" Let me see ; he'll be back in twenty minutes, at the 
longest/' said Mr. Brownlow, pulling out his watch, and 
placing it on the table. " It will be dark by that time." 

" Oh ! you really expect him to come back, do you ? " 
inquired Mr. Grimwig. 

" Don't you ? " asked Mr. Brownlow, smiling. 

The spirit of contradiction was strong in Mr. Grim- 
wig's breast, at the moment ; and it was rendered stronger 
by his friend's confident smile. 

" No," he said, smiting the table with his fist, " I do 
not. The boy has a new suit of clothes on his back ; a 
set of valuable books under his arm ; and a five-pound 
note in his pocket. He'll join his old friends the thieves, 
and laugh at you. If ever that boy returns to this house, 
sir, I'll eat my head." 

With these words, he drew his chair closer to the table ; 
and there the two friends sat, in silent expectation, with 
the watch between them. 

It is worthy of remark : as illustrating the importance 
we attach to our own judgments, and the pride with 
which we put forth our most rash and hasty conclusions : 
that, although Mr. Grimwig was not by any means a 
bad-hearted man ; and though he would have been un- 
feignedly sorry to see his respected friend duped and 
deceived ; he really did, most earnestly and strongly, 
hope, at that moment, that Oliver Twist might not come 

It grew so dark, that the figures on the dial-plate 
were scarcely discernible; but there the two old gentle- 
men continued to sit, in silence : with the watch between 




In the obscure parlor of a low public-house, situate 
in the filthiest part of Little Saffron-hill ; a dark and 
gloomy den, where a flaring gas-light burnt all day in 
the winter-time : and where no ray of sun ever shone in 
the summer ; there sat : brooding over a little pewter 
measure and a small glass, strongly impregnated with 
the smell of liquor : a man in a velveteen coat, drab 
shorts, half-boots and stockings, whom, even by that 
dim light, no experienced agent of police would have 
hesitated for one instant to recognize as Mr. William 
Sikes. At his feet, sat a white-coated, red-eyed dog ; 
who occupied himself, alternately, in winking at his 
master with both eyes at the same time ; and in licking 
a large, fresh cut on one side of his mouth, which 
appeared to be the result of some recent conflict. 

" Keep quiet, you warmint ! keep quiet ! " said Mr. 
Sikes, suddenly breaking silence. Whether his medi- 
tations were so intense as to be disturbed by the dog's 
winking, or whether his feelings were so wrought upon 
by his reflections, that they required all the relief de- 
rivable from kicking an unoffending animal to allay 
them, is matter for argument and consideration. What- 


ever was the cause, the effect was a kick and a curse 
bestowed upon the dog simuUaneously. 

Dogs are not generally apt to revenge injuries inflicted 
upon them by their masters ; but Mr. Sikes's dog, having 
faults of temper in common with his owner : and labor- 
ing, perhaps, at this moment, under a powerful sense of 
injury : made no more ado but at once fixed his teeth in 
one of the half-boots. Having given it a hearty shake, 
he retired, growling, under a form ; thereby just escap- 
ing the pewter measure which Mr. Sikes levelled at his 

" You would, would you ? " said Sikes, seizing the 
poker in one hand, and deliberately opening with the 
other a large clasp-knife, which he drew from his 
pocket. " Come here, you born devil ! Come here ! 
D'ye hear?" 

The dog no doubt heard ; because Mr. Sikes spoke in 
the very harshest key of a very harsh voice ; but, ap- 
pearing to entertain some unaccountable objection to 
having his throat cut, he remained where he was, and 
growled more fiercely than before : at the same time 
grasping the end of the poker between his teeth, and 
biting at it like a wild beast. 

This resistance only infuriated Mr. Sikes the more ; 
who, dropping on his knees, began to assail the animal 
most furiously. The dog jumped from right to left, and 
from left to right : snapping, growling, and barking ; the 
man thrust and swore, and struck and blasphemed ; and 
the struggle was reaching a most critical point for one or 
other, when, the door suddenly opening, the dog darted 
out : leaving Bill Sikes with the poker and the clasp- 
knife in his hands. 

There must always be two parties to a quarrel, says 


the old adage. jVIr. Sikes, being disappointed of the 
dog's participation, at once transferred his share in the 
quarrel to the new-comer. 

" What the devil do you come in between me and my 
dog for ? " said Sikes, with a fierce gesture. 

'• I didn't know, my dear, I didn't know," replied 
Fagin, humbly — for the Jew was the new-comer. 

" Didn't know, you white-livered thief ! " growled 
Sikes. " Couldn't you hear the noise ? " 

" Not a sound of it, as I'm a living man, Bill," replied 
the Jew. 

" Oh no ! You hear nothing, you don't," retorted 
Sikes, with a fierce sneer. " Sneaking in and out, so as 
nobody hears how you come or go ! I wish you had 
been the dog, Fagin, half a minute ago." 

" Why ? " inquired the Jew with a forced smile. 

"'Cause the government, as cares for the lives of 
such men as you, as haven't half the pluck of curs, lets 
a man kill a dog how he likes," replied Sikes, shutting 
up the knife with a very expressive look ; " that's why." 

The Jew rubbed his hands ; and, sitting down at the 
table, affected to laugh at the pleasantry of his friend. 
He was obviously very ill at ease, however. 

" Grin away," said Sikes, replacing the poker, and 
surveying him v/ith savage contempt ; " grin away. 
You'll never have the laugh at me, though, unless it's 
behind a night-cap. I've got the upper-hand over you, 
Fagin ; and d — me, I'll keep it. There ! If I go, you 
go ; so take care of me." 

" Well, well, my dear," said the Jew, " I know all 
that ; we — we — have a mutual interest. Bill, — a 
mutual interest." 

'• Humph," said Sikes, as if he thought the interest 


lay rather more on the Jew's side than on his. " "Well, 
what have you got to say to me ? " 

" It's all passed safe through the melting-pot," replied 
Fagin, " and this is your share. It's rather more than it 
ought to be, my dear ; but as I know you'll do me a 
good turn another time, and " 

" 'Stow that gammon," interposed the robber, impa- 
tiently. " Where is it ? Hand over ! " 

" Yes yes, Bill ; give me time, give me time," replied 
the Jew soothingly. " Here it is ! All safe ! " As he 
spoke, he drew forth an old cotton handkerchief from his 
breast ; and untying a large knot in one corner, produced 
a small brown-paper packet. Sikes, snatching it from 
him, hastily opened it ; and proceeded to count the sov- 
ereigns it contained. 

" This is all, is it ? " inquired Sikes. 

« All," replied the Jew. 

" You haven't opened the parcel and swallowed one or 
two as you come along, have you ? " inquired Sikes, sus- 
piciously. " Don't put on an injured look at the ques- 
tion ; you've done it many a time. Jerk the tinkler." 

These words, in plain English, conveyed an injunction 
to ring the bell. It was answered by another Jew : 
younger than Fagin, but nearly as vile and repulsive in 

Bill Sikes merely pointed to the empty measure. The 
Jew, perfectly understanding the hint, retired to fill it : 
previously exchanging a remarkable look with Fagin, 
who raised his eyes for an instant, as if in expectation of 
it, and shook his head in reply ; so slightly that the action 
would have been almost imperceptible to an observant 
third person. It was lost upon Sikes, who was stooping 
at the moment to tie the boot-lace which the dog had 


torn. Possibly, if lie had observed the brief interchange 
of signals, he might have thought that it boded no good 
to him. 

" Is anybody here, Barney ? " inquired Fagin ; speak- 
ing : now that Sikes was looking on : without raising his 
eyes from the ground. 

" Dot a shoul," replied Barney ; whose words : whether 
they came from the heart or not : made their way through 
the nose. 

" Nobody ? " inquired Fagin, in a tone of surprise : 
which perhaps might mean that Barney was at liberty to 
tell the truth. 

" Dobody but Biss Dadsy," replied Barney. 

" Nancy ! " exclaimed Sikes. " Where ? Strike me 
bhnd, if I don't honor that 'ere girl, for her native tal- 

" She's bid havid a plate of boiled beef id the bar," 
replied Barney. 

" Send her here," said Sikes, pouring out a glass of 
liquor. " Send her here." 

Barney looked timidly at Fagin, as if for permission ; 
the Jew remaining silent, and not lifting his eyes from 
the ground, he retired ; and presently returned, ushering 
in Nancy ; who was decorated with the bonnet, apron, 
basket, and street-door key, complete. 

" You are on the scent, are you, Nancy ? " inquired 
Sikes, proffering the glass. 

" Yes, I am. Bill," replied the young lady, disposing 
of its contents ; " and tired enough of it I am, too. The 
young brat's been ill and confined to the crib ; and " 

" Ah, Nancy, dear ! " said Fagin, looking up. 

Now, whether a peculiar contraction of the Jew's red 
eyebrows, and a half-closing of his deeply set eyes, 


warned Miss Nancy that she was disposed to be too com- 
municative, is not a matter of much importance. The 
fact is all we need care for here ; and the fact is, 
that she suddenly checked herself: and with several 
gracious smiles upon Mr. Sikes, turned the conversa- 
tion to other matters. In about ten minutes' time, Mr. 
Fagin was seized with a fit of coughing ; upon which 
Nancy pulled her shawl over her shoulders, and declared 
it was time to go. Mr. Sikes, finding that he was walk- 
ing a short part of her way himself, expressed his inten- 
tion of accompanying her ; and they went away together : 
followed, at a little distance, by the dog : who slunk out 
of a back-yard as soon as his master was out of sight. 

The Jew thrust his head out of the room-door when 
Sikes had left it ; looked after him as he walked up the 
dark passage ; shook his clenched fist ; muttered a deep 
curse ; and then, with a horrible grin, reseated himself 
at the table : where he was soon deeply absorbed in the 
interesting pages of the Hue-and-Cry. 

Meanwhile, Oliver Twist, little dreaming that he was 
within so very short a distance of the merry old gentle- 
man, was on his way to the book-stall. When he got 
into Clerkenwell, he accidentally turned down a by- 
street, which was not exactly in his way ; but not dis- 
covering his mistake until he had got half-way down it, 
and knowing it must lead in the right direction, he did 
not think it worth while to turn back ; and so marched 
on, as quickly as he could, with the books under his arm. 

He was walking along ; thinking how happy and con- 
tented he ought to feel ; and how much he would give 
for only one look at poor little Dick : who, starved and 
beaten, might be weeping bitterly at that very moment ; 
when he was startled by a young woman screaming out 


very loud, " Oh, my dear brother ! " And he had hardly 
looked up to see what the matter was, when he was 
stopped by having a pair of arms thrown tight round his 

" Don't," cried Oliver, struggling. " Let go of me. 
Who is it ? What are you stopping me for ? " 

The only reply to this, was a great number of loud 
lamentations from the young woman who had embraced 
him ; and who had a little basket and a street-door key 
in her hand. 

" Oh my gracious ! " said the young woman, " I've 
found him ! Oh ! Oliver ! Oliver ! Oh you naughty 
boy, to make me suffer sich distress on your account ! 
Come home, dear, come. Oh, I've found him. Thank 
gracious goodness heavins, I've found him ! " With 
these incoherent exclamations, the young woman burst 
into another fit of crying, and got so dreadfully hysteri- 
cal, that a couple of women who came up at the moment 
asked a butcher's boy with a shiny head of hair anointed 
with suet, who was also looking on, whether he didn't 
think he had better run for the doctor. To which, the 
butcher's boy : who appeared of a lounging, not to say 
indolent disposition : replied, that he thought not. 

" Oh, no, no, never mind," said the young woman, 
grasping Oliver's hand ; " I'm better now. Come home 
directly, you cruel boy ! Come ! " 

" What's the matter, ma'am ? " inquired one of the 

" Oh, ma'am," replied the young woman, " he ran 
away, near a month ago, from his parents, who are hard- 
working and respectable people ; and went and joined a 
set of thieves and bad characters ; and almost broke his 
mother's heart." 


" Young wretch ! " said one woman. 

" Go home, do, you httle brute," said the other. 

" I'm not," rephed Oliver, gi-eatly alarmed. " I don't 
know her. I haven't any sister, or father and mother 
either. I'm an orphan ; I live at Pentonville." 

" Oh, only hear him, how he braves it out ! " cried the 
young woman. 

" Why, it's Nancy ! " exclaimed Oliver ; who now saw 
her face for the first time ; and started back, in irrepres- 
sible astonishment. 

" You see he knows me ! " cried Nancy, appealing to 
the bystanders. " He can't help himself. Make him 
come home, there's good people, or he'll kill his dear 
mother and father, and break my heart ! " 

" What the devil's this ? " said a man, bursting out of 
a beer-shop, with a white dog at his heels ; " young 
Oliver! Come home to your poor mother, you young 
dog ! Come home directly." 

" I don't belong to them. I don't know them. Help ! 
help ! " cried Oliver, struggling in the man's powerful 

" Help ! " repeated the man. " Yes ; I'll help you, 
you young rascal ! What books are these ? You've 
been a-stealing 'em, have you ? Give 'em here." With 
these words, the man tore the volumes from his grasp, 
and struck him on the head. 

" That's right ! " cried a looker-on, from a garret-win- 
dow. " That's the only way of bringing him to his 
senses ! " 

" To be sure ! " cried a sleepy-faced carpenter, casting 
an approving look at the garret-window. 

" It'll do him good ! " said the two women. 

" And he shall have it, too ! " rejoined the man, admin- 


istering another blow, and seizing Oliver by the collar. 
" Come on, you young villain ! Here, Bull's-eye, mind 
him, boy ! Mind him ! " 

Weak with recent illness ; stupefied by the blows and 
the suddenness of the attack; terrified by the fierce 
growling of the dog, and the brutality of the man ; and 
overpowered by the conviction of the bystanders that he 
really was the hardened little wretch he was described 
to be ; what could one poor child do ! Darkness had set 
in ; it was a low neighborhood ; no help was near ; resist- 
ance was useless. In another moment, he was dragged 
into a labyrinth of dark narrow courts : and forced along 
them, at a pace which rendered the few cries he dared 
to give utterance to, wholly unintelligible. It was of 
little moment, indeed, whether they were intelligible or 
no ; for there was nobody to care for them, had they 

been ever so plain. 


The gas-lamps were lighted ; Mrs. Bedwin was wait- 
ing anxiously at the open door ; the servant had run up 
the street twenty times to see if there were any traces 
of Oliver; and still the two old gentlemen sat, perse- 
veringly, in the dark parlor : with the watch between 




The narrow streets and courts, at length, terminated 
in a large open space ; scattered about which, were pens 
for beasts : and other indications of a cattle-market. 
Sikes slackened his pace when they reached this spot : 
the girl being quite unable to support any longer, the 
rapid rate at which they had hitherto walked. Turning 
to Oliver, he roughly commanded him to take hold of 
Nancy's hand. 

" Do you hear ? " growled Sikes, as Oliver hesitated, 
and looked round. 

They were in a dark corner, quite out of the track of 
passengers. Oliver saw, but too plainly, that resistance 
would be of no avail. He held out his hand, which 
Nancy clasped tight in hers. 

" Give me the other," said Sikes, seizing Oliver's un- 
occupied hand. '' Here, Bull's-eye ! " 

The dog looked up and growled. 

" See here, boy ! " said Sikes, putting his other hand 
to OHver's throat ; " if he speaks ever so soft a word, 
hold him ! D'ye mind ? " 

The dog growled again ; and Hcking his lips, eyed 
Oliver as if he were anxious to attach himself to his 
windpipe without delay. 


" He's as willing as a Christian, strike me blind if he 
isn't ! " said Sikes, regarding the animal with a kind of 
grim and ferocious approval. "Now, jou know what 
you've got to expect, master, so call away as quick as 
you like ; the dog will soon stop that game. Get on, 
young 'un ! " 

Bull's-eye wagged his tail in acknowledgment of this 
unusually endearing form of speech ; and giving vent to 
another admonitory growl for the benefit of Oliver, led 
the way onward. 

It was Smithfield that they were crossing, although it 
might have been Grosvenor-square, for anything Oliver 
knew to the contrary. The night was dark and foggy. 
The lights in the shops could scarcely struggle through 
the heavy mist, which thickened every moment and 
shrouded the streets and houses in gloom ; rendering the 
strange place still stranger in Oliver's eyes ; and making 
his uncertainty the more dismal and depressing. 

They had hurried on a few paces, when a deep church- 
bell struck the hour. With its first stroke, his two con- 
ductors stopped : and turned their heads in the direction 
whence the sound proceeded. 

" Eight o'clock. Bill," said Nancy, when the bell ceased. 

" What's the good of telling me that ; I can hear it, 
can't I ! " replied Sikes. 

" I wonder whether they can hear it," said Nancy. 

" Of course they can," replied Sikes. " It was Bartle- 
my time when I w^as shopped ; and there warn't a penny 
trumpet in the fair, as I couldn't hear the squeaking on. 
Arter I was locked up for the night, the row and din out- 
side made the thundering old jail so silent, that I could 
almost have beat my head out against the iron plates of 
the door." 


" Poor fellows ! " said Nancy, who still had her face 
turned towards the quarter in which the bell had sounded. 
" Oh, Bill, such fine young chaps as them ! " 

"Yes; that's all you women think of," answered 
Sikes. " Fine young chaps ! Well, they're as good as 
dead, so it don't much matter." 

With this consolation, Mr. Sikes appeared to repress 
a rising tendency to jealousy; and, clasping Ohver's 
wrist more firmly, told him to step out again. 

" Wait a minute ! " said the girl : " I wouldn't hurry 
by, if it was you that was coming out to be hung, the 
next time eight o'clock struck, Bill. I'd walk round and 
round the place till I dropped, if the snow was on the 
ground, and I hadn't a shawl to cover me." 

" And what good would that do ? " inquired the un- 
sentimental Mr. Sikes. " Unless you could pitch over 
a file and twenty yards of good stout rope, you might as 
well be walking fifty mile off, or not walking at all, for 
all the good it would do me. Come on, will you, and 
don't stand preaching there." 

The girl burst into a laugh; drew her shawl more 
closely round her ; and they walked away. But Oliver 
felt her hand tremble ; and looking up in her face as 
they passed a gas-lamp, saw that it had turned a deadly 

They walked on, by little-frequented and dirty ways, 
for a full half-hour : meeting very few people ; and those 
appearing from their looks to hold much the same posi- 
tion in society as Mr. Sikes himself. At length they 
turned into a very filthy narrow street, nearly full of old- 
clothes shops ; the dog running forward, as if conscious 
that there was no further occasion for his keeping on 
guard, stopped before the door of a shop that was closed 


and apparently untenanted. The house was in a ruinous 
condition ; and on the door was nailed a board, intimat- 
ing that it was to let : which looked as if it had hung 
there for many years. 

" All right," cried Sikes, glancing cautiously about. 

Nancy stooped below the shutters ; and Oliver heard 
the sound of a bell. They crossed to the opposite side 
of the street : and stood for a few moments under a lamp. 
A noise, as if a sash w^indow w^ere gently raised, was 
heard ; and soon afterwards the door softly opened. Mr. 
Sikes then seized the ten-ified boy by the collar with 
very little ceremony ; and all three were quickly inside 
the house. 

The passage was perfectly dark. They waited, while 
the person who had let them in, chained and barred the 

" Anybody here ? " inquired Sikes. 

" No," replied a voice, which Oliver thought he had 
heard before. 

" Is the old 'un here ? " asked the robber. 

" Yes," replied the voice ; " and precious down in the 
moutli he has been. Won't he be glad to see you ? Oh, 

The style of this reply, as well as the voice which de- 
livered it, seemed familiar to Oliver's ears : but it was 
impossible to distinguish even the form of the sj)eaker in 
the darkness. 

" Let's have a glim," said Sikes, " or we shall go 
breaking our necks, or treading on the dog. Look after 
your legs if you do ! That's all." 

" Stand still a moment, and I'll get you one," replied 
the voice. The receding footsteps of the speaker were 
heard ; and in another minute, the form of Mr. John 

VOL. I. 12 


Dawkins, otherwise the artful Dodger, appeared. He 
bore in his right hand a tallow-candle stuck in the end 
of a cleft stick. 

The young gentleman did not stop to bestow any other 
mark of recognition upon Oliver than a humorous grin ; 
but, turning away, beckoned the visitors to follow him 
down a flight of stairs. They crossed an empty kitchen ; 
and, opening the door of a low earthy-smelling room, 
which seemed to have been built in a small back-yard, 
were received with a shout of laughter. 

" Oh, my wig, my wig ! " cried Master Charles Bates, 
from whose lungs the laughter had proceeded ; " here 
he is ! oh, cry, here he is ! Oh, Fagin, look at him ; 
Fagin, do look at him ! I can't bear it ; it is such a 
jolly game, I can't bear it. Hold me, somebody, while 
I laugh it out." 

"With this irrepressible ebullition of mirth, Master 
Bates laid himself flat on the floor : and kicked convul- 
sively for five minutes, in an ecstasy of facetious joy. 
Then jumping to his feet, he snatched the cleft stick 
from the Dodger ; and, advancing to Oliver, viewed him 
round and round; while the Jcav, taking off his night- 
cap, made a great number of low bow^s to the bewildered 
boy. The Artful, meantime, who was of a rather satur- 
nine disposition, and seldom gave way to merriment when 
it interfered with business, rifled Oliver's pockets with 
steady assiduity. 

" Look at his togs, Fagin ! " said Charley, putting the 
light so close to his new jacket as nearly to set him on 
fire. " Look at his togs, — superfine cloth, and the 
heavy-swell cut ! Oh, my eye, what a game ! And his 
books, too ; nothing but a gentleman, Fagin ! " 

" Delighted to see you looking so well, my dear," said 


the Jew, bowing with mock humility. " The Artful shall 
give you another suit, my dear, for fear you should spoil 
that Sunday one. Why didn't you write, my dear, and 
say you were coming ? We'd have got something warm 
for supper." 

At this, Master Bates roared again ; so loud, that Fa- 
gin himself relaxed : and even the Dodger smiled ; but 
as the Ai'tful drew forth the five-pound note at that in- 
stant, it is doubtful whether the sally or the discovery 
awakened his merriment. 

" Hallo ! what's that ? " inquired Sikes, stepping forward 
as the Jew seized the note. " That's mine, Fagin." 

" No, no, my dear," said the Jew. " Mine, Bill, mine. 
You shall have the books." 

" If that a'n't mine ! " said Bill Sikes, putting on his 
hat with a determined air ; " mine and Nancy's, that is : 
I'll take the boy back again." 

The Jew started. Oliver started too, though from a 
very different cause ; for he hoped that the dispute might 
really end in his being taken back. 

" Come ! Hand over, will you ? " said Sikes. 

" This is hardly fair, Bill ; hardly fair, is it, Nancy ? " 
inquired the Jew. 

" Fair or not fair," retorted Sikes, " hand over, I tell 
you ! Do you think Nancy and me has got nothing else 
to do with our precious time but to spend it in scouting 
arter, and kidnapping, every young boy as gets grabbed 
through you ? Give it here, you avaricious old skeleton ; 
give it here ! " 

With this gentle remonstrance, Mr. Sikes plucked the 
note from between the Jew's finger and thumb ; and 
looking the old man coolly in the face, folded it up small, 
and tied it in his neckerchief. 


" That's for our share of the trouble," said Sikes : 
" and not half enough, neither. You may keep the 
books, if you're fond of reading. If you a'n't, sell 

" They're very pretty," said Charley Bates : who with 
sundry grimaces had been affecting to read one of the 
volumes in question; "beautiful writing, isn't it, Oliver?" 
At sight of the dismayed look with which Oliver regarded 
his tormentors, Master Bates, who was blessed with a 
lively sense of the ludicrous, fell into another ecstasy, 
more boisterous than the first. 

" They belong to the old gentleman," said Oliver, 
wringing his hands ; " to the good, kind, old gentleman 
who took me into his house, and had me nursed, when 
I was near dying of the fever. Oh, pray send them 
back ; send him back the books and money. Keep me 
here all my life long ; but pray, pray send them back. 
He'll think I stole them ; the old lady : all of them who 
were so kind to me : will think I stole them. Oh, do 
have mercy upon me, and send them back ! " 

With these words, which were uttered with all the 
energy of passionate grief, Oliver fell upon his knees at 
the Jew's feet ; and beat his hands together, in perfect 

" The boy's right," remarked Fagin, looking covertly 
round, and knitting his shaggy eyebrows into a hard 
knot. " You're right, Oliver, you're right ; they will 
think you have stolen 'em. Ha ! ha ! " chuckled the 
Jew, rubbing his hands ; " it couldn't have happened 
better, if we had chosen our time ! " 

" Of course it couldn't," replied Sikes ; " I know'd 
that, directly I see him coming through Clerkenwell, 
with the books under his arm. It's all right enough. 


They're soft-hearted psalm-singers, or they wouldn't have 
taken him in at all ; and they'll ask no questions after 
him, for fear they should be obliged to prosecute, and so 
get him lagged. He's safe enough." 

Oliver had looked from one to the other, while these 
words were being spoken, as if he were bewildered, 
and could scarcely understand what passed ; but when 
Bill Sikes concluded, he jumped suddenly to his feet, 
and tore wildly from the room : uttering shrieks for 
help, which made the bare old house echo to the roof. 

" Keep back the dog, Bill ! " cried Nancy, springing 
before the door, and closing it, as the Jew and his two 
pupils darted out in pursuit ; " keep back the dog ; he'll 
tear the boy to pieces." 

" Serve him right ! " cried Sikes, struggling to disen- 
gage himself from the girl's grasp. " Stand off from 
me, or I'll split your head against the wall." 

" I don't care for that. Bill ; I don't care for that," 
screamed the girl, struggling violently with the man : 
" the child shan't be torn down by the dog, unless you 
kill me first." 

" Shan't he ! " said Sikes, setting his teeth fiercely. 
''I'll soon do that, if you don't keep off." 

The housebreaker flung the girl from him to the far- 
ther end of the room ; just as the Jew and the two boys 
returned : dragging Oliver among them. 

" What's the matter here ? " said Fagin, looking round. 

" The girl's gone mad, I think," replied Sikes, sav- 

" No, she hasn't," said Nancy, pale and breathless from 
the scuffle ; " no, she hasn't, Fagin ; don't think it." 

" Then keep quiet, will you ? " said the Jew, with a 
tlireatening look. 


" No, I won't do that, neither," replied Nancy, speak- 
ing very loud. " Come ! What do you think of that ? " 

Mr. Fagin was sufficiently well acquainted with the 
manners and customs of that particular species of hu- 
manity to which Nancy belonged, to feel tolerably cer- 
tain that it would be rather unsafe to prolong any 
conversation with her, at present. With the view of 
diverting the attention of the company, he turned to 

" So you wanted to get away, my dear, did you ? " 
said the Jew, taking up a jagged and knotted club which 
lay in a corner of the fireplace ; " eh ? " 

Oliver made no reply. But he watched the Jew's 
motions ; and breathed quickly. 

" Wanted to get assistance ; called for the police ; did 
you ? " sneered the Jew, catching the boy by the arm. 
" We'll cure you of that, my young master." 

The Jew inflicted a smart blow on Oliver's shoulders 
with the club ; and was raising it for a second, when the 
girl, rushing forward, wrested it from his hand. She 
flung it into the fire, with a force that brought some of 
the glowing coals whirling out into the room. 

" I won't stand by and see it done, Fagin," cried the 
girl. " You've got the boy, and what more would you 
have ? — Let him be — let him be, or I shall put that 
mark on some of you, that will bring me to the gallows 
before my time." 

The girl stamped her foot violently on the floor as 
she vented this threat ; and with her lips compressed, 
and her hands clenched, looked alternately at the Jew 
and the other robber : her face quite colorless from the 
passion of rage into which she had gradually worked 


" Why, Nancy ! " said the Jew. in a soothing tone ; 
after a pause, during which he and Mr. Sikes had stared 
at one another in a disconcerted manner ; you — you're 
more clever than ever to-night. Ha ! ha ! my dear, you 
are acting beautifully." 

"Am I ! " said the girl. " Take care I don't overdo it. 
You will be the worse for it, Fagin, if I do ; and so I tell 
you in good time to keep clear of me." 

There is something about a roused woman : especially 
if she add to all her other strong passions, the fierce im- 
pulses of recklessness and despair : which few men like 
to provoke. The Jew saw that it would be hopeless to 
affect any further mistake regarding the reality of Miss 
Nancy's rage ; and shrinking involuntarily back a few 
paces, cast a glance, half imploring and half cowardly 
at Sikes : as if to hint that he was the fittest person to 
pursue the dialogue. 

Mr. Sikes, thus mutely appealed to ; and possibly 
feeling his personal pride and influence interested in 
the immediate redaction of Miss Nancy to reason ; gave 
utterance to about a couple of score of curses and threats, 
the rapid production of which reflected great credit on 
the fertility of his invention. As they produced no 
visible effect on the object against whom they were dis- 
charged, however, he resorted to more tangible arguments. 

" What do you mean by this ? " said Sikes ; backing 
the inquiry with a very common imprecation concerning 
the most beautiful of human features : which, if it were 
heard above, only once out of every fifty thousand times 
that it is uttered below, would render blindness as com- 
mon a disorder as measles ; '' what do you mean by it ? 
Burn my body ! Do you know who you are, and what 
you are ? " 


" Oh, yes, I know all about it," replied the girl, laugh- 
ing hysterically ; and shaking her head from side to side, 
with a poor assumption of indifference. 

" Well, then, keep quiet," rejoined Sikes, with a growl 
like that he was accustomed to use when addressing his 
dog, " or I'll quiet you for a good long time to come." 

The girl laughed again : even less composedly than 
before; and, darting a hasty look at Sikes, turned her 
face aside, and bit her lip till the blood came. 

" You're a nice one," added Sikes, as he surveyed her 
with a contemptuous air, " to take up the humane and 
gen — teel side ! A pretty subject for the child, as you 
call him, to make a friend of ! " 

" God Almighty help me, I am ! " cried the girl pas- 
sionately ; " and I wish I had been struck dead in the 
street, or had changed places with them we passed so 
near to-night, before I had lent a hand in bringing him 
here. He's a thief, a liar, a devil ; all that's bad from 
this night forth. Isn't that enough for the old wretch 
without blows ? " 

" Come, come, Sikes," said the Jew, appealing to him 
in a remonstratory tone, and motioning towards the boys, 
who were eagerly attentive to all that passed ; " we must 
have civil words ; civil words, Bill." 

" Civil words ! " cried the girl, whose passion was 
frightful to see. " Civil words, you villain ! Yes ; you 
deserve 'em from me. I thieved for you when I was a 
child not half as old as this ! " pointing to Oliver. " I 
have been in the same trade, and in the .same service, 
for twelve years since. Don't you know it? Speak 
out ! don't you know it ? " 

" Well, well," replied the Jew, with an attempt at pac- 
ification ; " and if you have, it's your living ! " 


"Aye, it is!" returned the girl; not speaking, but 
pouring out the words in one continuous and vehement 
scream. " It is my living ; and the cold, wet, dirty streets 
are my home ; and you're the wretch that drove me to 
them long ago ; and that '11 keep me there, day and night, 
day and night, till I die ! " 

" I shall do you a mischief ! " interposed the Jew, 
goaded by these reproaches ; " a mischief worse than 
that, if you say much more ! " 

The girl said nothing more ; but tearing her hair and 
dress in a transport of frenzy, made such a rush at the 
Jew as would probably have left signal marks of her 
revenge upon him, had not her wrists been seized by 
Sikes at the right moment ; upon which she made a few 
ineffectual struggles : and fainted. 

" She's all right now," said Sikes, laying her down in 
a corner. " She's uncommon strong in the arms when 
she's up in this way." 

The Jew wiped his forehead : and smiled, as if it 
were a relief to have the disturbance over; but neither 
he, nor Sikes, nor the dog, nor the boys, seemed to con- 
sider it in any other light than a common occurrence 
incidental to business. 

" It's the worst of having to do with women," said the 
Jew, replacing his club ; " but they're clever, and we 
can't get on, in our line, without 'em. Charley, show 
Oliver to bed." 

" I suppose he'd better not wear his best clothes to- 
morrow, Fagin, had he ? " inquired Charley Bates. 

" Certainly not," replied the Jew, reciprocating the 
grin with which Charley put the question. 

Master Bates, apparently much delighted with his 
commission, took the cleft stick : and led Oliver into 


an adjacent kitchen, where there were two or three of 
the beds on which he had slept before ; and here, with 
many uncontrollable bursts of laughter, he produced the 
identical old suit of clothes which Oliver had so much 
congratulated himself upon leaving off at Mr. Brown- 
low's ; and the accidental display of which, to Fagin, by 
the Jew who purchased them, had been the very first 
clue received, of his whereabout. 

" Pull off the smart ones," said Charley, " and I'll 
give 'em to Fagin to take care of. "What fun it is ! " 

Poor Oliver unwillingly complied. Master Bates, 
rolling up the new clothes under his arm, departed from 
the room ; leaving Oliver in the dark ; and locking the 
door behind him. 

The noise of Charley's laughter ; and the voice of 
Miss Betsy, who opportunely arrived to throw water 
over her friend, and perform other feminine offices for 
the promotion of her recovery ; might have kept many 
people awake under more happy circumstances than 
those in which Oliver was placed. But he was sick and 
weary ; and he soon fell sound asleep. 



Oliver's destiny coxtixuixg rxpROPiTiors, brings 


It is the custom on the stage : in all good murderous 
melodramas : to present the tragic and the comic scenes, 
in as regular alternation, as the layers of red and white 
in a side of streaky, well-cured bacon. The hero sinks 
upon his straw bed, weighed down by fetters and mis- 
fortunes ; and, in the next scene, his faithful but uncon- 
scious squire regales the audience with a comic song. 
We behold, with throbbing bosoms, the heroine in the 
grasp of a proud and ruthless baron : her virtue and her 
life alike in danger ; drawing forth her dagger to pre- 
serve the one at the cost of the other ; and just as our 
expectations are wrought up to the highest pitch, a 
whistle is heard : and we are straightway transported to 
the great hall of the castle : where a gray-headed senes- 
chal sings a funny chorus with a funnier body of vassals, 
w^ho are free of all sorts of places from church-vaults to 
palaces, and roam about in company, carolling perpet- 

Such changes appear absurd ; but they are not so un- 
natural as they would seem at first sight. The transitions 
in real life from well-spread boards to death-beds, and 


from mourning weeds to holiday garments, are not a 
whit less startling ; only, there, we are busy actors, in- 
stead of jDassive lookers-on ; which makes a vast differ- 
ence. The actors in the mimic life of the theatre, are 
blind to violent transitions and abrupt impulses of passion 
or feeling, which, presented before the eyes of mere spec- 
tators, are at once condemned as outrageous and prepos- 

As sudden shiftings of the scene, and rapid changes of 
time and place, are not only sanctioned in books by long 
usage, but are by many considered as the great art of 
authorship : an author's skill in his craft being, by such 
critics, chiefly estimated with relation to the dilemmas in 
which he leaves his characters at the end of every chap- 
ter : this brief introduction to the present one may per- 
haps be deemed unnecessary. If so, let it be considered 
a delicate intimation on the part of the historian that he 
is going back, directly, to the town in which Oliver Twist 
was born ; the reader taking it for granted that there are 
good and substantial reasons for making the journey, or 
he would not be invited to proceed upon such an expe- 
dition, on any account. 

Mr. Bumble emerged at early morning from the work- 
house gate ; and walked, with portly carriage and com- 
manding steps, up the High-street. He was in the full 
bloom and pride of beadlehood ; his cocked-hat and coat 
were dazzling in the morning sun ; and he clutched his 
cane with the vigorous tenacity of health and power. 
Mr. Bumble always carried his head high ; but this 
morning it was higher than usual. There was an ab- 
straction in his eye, an elevation in his air, which might 
have warned an observant stranger that thoughts were 
passing in the beadle's mind, too great for utterance. 


Mr. Bumble stopped not to converse with the small 
shop-keepers and others who spoke to him, deferentially 
as he passed along. He merely returned their saluta- 
tions with a wave of his hand ; and relaxed not in his 
dignified pace, until he reached the farm where IMrs. 
Mann tended the infant paupers with parochial care. 

" Drat that beadle ! " said Mrs. Mann, hearing the 
well-known shaking at the garden-gate. " If it isn't him 
at this time in the morning ! Lauk, Mr. Bumble, only 
think of its being you ! Well, dear me, it is a pleas- 
ure, this is ! Come into the parlor, sir, please." 

The first sentence was addressed to Susan ; and the 
exclamations of delight were uttered to Mr. Bumble : as 
the good lady unlocked the garden-gate : and showed 
him, with great attention and respect, into the house. 

" Mrs. Mann," said Mr. Bumble ; not sitting upon, or 
dropping himself into a seat, as any common jackanapes 
would : but letting himself gradually and slowly down 
into a chair ; " Mrs. Mann, ma'am, good-morning." 

" Well, and good-morning to yoii, sir," replied Mrs. 
Mann, with many smiles ; " and hoping you find your- 
self well, sir ! " 

" So-so, Mrs. Mann," replied the beadle. " A porochial 
life is not a bed of roses, Mrs. Mann." 

"Ah, that it isn't indeed, Mr. Bumble," rejoined the 
lady. And all the infant paupers might have cho- 
russed the rejoinder with great propriety, if they had 
heard it. 

"A porochial life, ma'am," continued Mr. Bumble, 
striking the table with his cane, " is a life of worrit, and 
vexation, and hardihood ; but all public characters, as I 
may say, must suffer prosecution." 

Mrs. Mann, not very well knowing what the beadle 


meant, raised lier hands with a look of sympathy ; and 

" Ah ! You may well sigh, Mrs. Mann ! " said the 

Finding she had done right, Mrs. Mann sighed again : 
evidently to the satisfaction of the public character: who, 
repressing a complacent smile by looking sternly at his 
cocked-hat, said, 

" Mrs. Mann, I am a-going to London." 

" Lauk, Mr. Bumble ! " cried Mrs. Mann, starting 

" To London, ma'am," resumed the inflexible beadle, 
" by coach. I and two paupers, Mrs. Mann ! A legal 
action is a-coming on, about a settlement ; and the board 
has appointed me — me, Mrs. Mann — to depose to the 
matter before the quarter-sessions at Clerkinwell. And 
I very much question," added Mr. Bumble, drawing him- 
self up, " whether the Clerkinwell Sessions will not find 
themselves in the wrong box before they have done 
with me." 

" Oh ! you mustn't be too hard upon them, sir," said 
Mrs. Mann, coaxingly. 

"The Clerkinwell Sessions have brought it upon them- 
selves, ma'am," replied Mr. Bumble ; " and if the Clerkin- 
well Sessions find that they come otf rather worse than 
they expected, the Clerkinwell Sessions have only them- 
selves to thank." 

There was so much determination and depth of pur- 
pose about the menacing manner in which Mr. Bumble 
delivered himself of these words, that Mrs. Mann ap- 
peared quite awed by them. At length, she said : 

" You're going by coach, sir ? I thought it was al- 
ways usual to send them paupers in carts." 


" That's when they're ill, Mrs. Mann," said the beadle. 
" We put the sick paupers into open carts in the rainy- 
weather, to prevent their taking cold." 

« Oh ! " said Mrs. Mann. 

" The opposition coach contracts for these two ; and 
takes them cheap," said jMr. Bumble. " They are both 
in a very low state, and we find it would come two 
pound cheaper to move 'em than to bury 'em — that i?, 
if we can throw 'em upon another parish, which I think 
we shall be able to do, if they don't die upon the road to 
spite us. Ha ! ha ! ha ! " 

When Mr. Bumble had laughed a little while, his 
eyes again encountered the cocked-hat ; and he became 

" We are forgetting business, ma'am," said the beadle ; 
" here is your porochial stipend for the month." 

Mr. Bumble produced some silver money roUed up in 
paper, from his pocket-book ; and requested a receipt : 
which Mrs. Mann wrote. 

" It's very much blotted, sir," said the farmer of in- 
fants ; " but it's formal enough, I dare say. Thank you, 
Mr. Bumble, sir, I am very much obliged to you, I'm 

Mr. Bumble nodded, blandly, in acknowledgment of 
Mrs. Mann's courtesy ; and inquired how the children 

" Bless their dear little hearts ! " said Mrs. Mann with 
emotion, " they're as well as can be, the dears. Of 
course, except the two that died last week. And little 

" Isn't that boy no better ? " inquired Mr. Bumble. 

Mrs. Mann shook her head. 

" He's a ill-conditioned, wicious, bad-disposed poro- 


chial child, that," said Mr. Bumble, angrily. " Where 
is lie ? " 

" I'll bring him to you in one minute, sir," replied 
Mrs. Mann. " Here, you Dick ! " 

After some calling, Dick was discovered. Having had 
his face put under the pump, and dried upon Mrs. Mann's 
gown, he was led into the awful presence of Mr. Bumble, 
the beadle. 

The child was pale and thin ; his cheeks were sunken ; 
and his eyes large and bright. The scanty parish-dress : 
the livery of his misery : hung loosely on his feeble body ; 
and his young limbs had wasted away, like those of an 
old man. 

Such was the little being who stood trembling beneath 
Mr. Bumble's glance ; not daring to lift his eyes from 
the floor ; and dreading even to hear the beadle's voice. 

" Can't you look at the gentleman, you obstinate boy ! " 
said Mrs. Mann. 

The child meekly raised liisi eyes, and encountered 
those of Mr. Bumble. 

" What's the matter with you, porochial Dick ? " in- 
quired Mr. Bumble with well-timed jocularity. 

" Nothing, sir," replied the child faintly. 

" I should think not," said Mrs. Mann, who had of 
course laughed very much at Mr. Bumble's humor. 
" You want for nothing, I'm sure." 

" I should like " — faltered the child. 

" Hey-day!" interposed Mrs. Mann, "I suppose you're 
going to say that you do want for something, now ? Why, 
you little wretch " 

" Stop, Mrs. Mann, stop ! " said the beadle, raising his 
hand with a show of authority. " Like what, sir ; eh ? " 

" I should like," faltered the child, " if somebody that 


can write, would put a few words down for me on a piece 
of paper : and fold it up and seal it : and keep it for me, 
after I am laid in the ground." 

" Why, what does the boy mean ? " exclaimed Mr. 
Bumble, on whom the earnest manner and wan asp(!ct 
of the child had made some impression : accustomed as 
he was, to such things. '• What do you mean, sir ? " 

" I should like," said the child, " to leave my dear love 
to poor Oliver Twist ; and to let him know how often I 
have sat by myself and cried to think of his wandering 
about in the dark nights with nobody to help him. And 
I should like to tell him," said the child, pressing his 
small hands together, and speaking with great fervor, 
" that I was glad to die when I was very young ; for, 
perhaps, if I had lived to be a man, and had grown old, 
my little sister, who is in Heaven, might forget me, or be 
unlike me ; and it would be so much happier if we were 
both children there together." 

Mr. Bumble surveyed the little speaker, from head to 
foot, with indescribable astonishment ; and, turning to his 
companion, said, " They're all in one story, Mrs. Mann. 
That out-dacious OUver has demogalized them all ! " 

" I couldn't have believed it, sir ! " said Mrs. Mann, 
holding up her hands, and looking malignantly at Dick. 
" I never see such a hardened little wretch ! " 

" Take him away, ma'am ! " said Mr. Bumble, impe- 
riously. " This must be stated to the board, Mrs. Mann." 

" I hope the gentlemen w411 understand that it isn't my 
fault, sir ? " said Mrs. Mann, whimpering pathetically. 

" They shall understand that, ma'am ; they shall be 
acquainted with the true state of the case," said Mr. 
Bumble. " There ; take him away. I can't bear the 
sight on him." 

VOL. I. 13 


Dick was immediately taken away, and locked up in 
the coal-cellar. Mr. Bumble shortly afterwards took 
himself off, to prepare for his journey. 

At six o'clock next morning, Mr. Bumble : having ex- 
changed his cocked-hat for a round one, and encased his 
person in a blue great-coat with a cape to it : took his 
place on the outside of the coach, accompanied by the 
criminals whose settlement was disputed ; with whom, in 
due course of time, he arrived in London. He expe- 
rienced no other crosses, on the way, than those which 
originated in the perverse behavior of the two paupers, 
who persisted in shivering and complaining of the cold, 
in a manner which, Mr. Bumble declared, caused his 
teeth to chatter in his head, and made him feel quite 
uncomfortable ; although he had a great-coat on. 

Having disposed of these evil-minded persons for the 
night, Mr. Bumble sat himself down in the house at 
which the coach stopped : and took a temperate dinner 
of steaks, oyster-sauce, and porter. Putting a glass of 
hot gin-and-water on the chimney-piece, he drew his 
chair to the fire ; and, with sundry moral reflections on 
the too-prevalent sin of discontent and complaining, com- 
posed himself to read the paper. 

The very first paragraph upon which Mr. Bumble's 
eyes rested, was the following advertisement. 


"Whereas a young boy, named Oliver Twist, ab- 
sconded, or was enticed, on Thursday evening last, from 
his home at Pentonville ; and has not since been heard 
of. The above reward will be paid to any person who 
will give such information as will lead to the discovery 
of the said Oliver Twist, or tend to throw any light upon 


his previous history, in which the advertiser is, for many 
reasons, warmly interested." 

And then followed a full description of Oliver's dress, 
person, appearance, and disappearance : with the name 
and address of Mr. Brownlow at full length. 

Mr. Bumble opened his eyes ; read the advertisement, 
slowly and carefully, three several times ; and in some- 
thing more than five minutes was on his way to Penton- 
ville : having actually in his excitement, left the glass of 
hot gin- and- water, untasted. 

" Is Mr. Brownlow at home ? " inquired Mr. Bumble 
of the girl who opened the door. 

To this inquiry the girl returned the not uncommon, 
but rather evasive reply of "' I don't know ; where do 
you come from ? " 

Mr. Bumble no sooner uttered Ohver's name, in expla- 
nation of his errand, than Mrs. Bedwin, who had been 
listening at the parlor-door, hastened into the passage in 
a breathless state. 

" Come in — come in," said the old lady : " I knew 
we should hear of him. Poor dear ! I knew we should ! 
I was certain of it. Bless his heart ! I said so, all 

Having said this, the worthy old lady hurried back 
into the parlor again ; and seating herself on a sofa, 
burst into tears. The girl, who was not quite so sus- 
ceptible, had run up-stairs meanwhile ; and now returned 
with a request that Mr. Bumble would follow her imme- 
diately : which he did. 

He was shown into the little back study, where sat 
Mr. Brownlow and his friend Mr. Grimwig, with decan- 
ters and glasses before them. The latter gentleman at 
once burst into the exclamation : 


" A beadle ! A parish beadle, or I'll eat my head." 

" Pray don't interrupt just now," said Mr. Brownlow. 
" Take a seat, will you ? " 

Mr. Bumble sat himself down : quite confounded by 
the oddity of Mr. Grimwig's manner. Mr. Brownlow 
moved the lamp, so as to obtain an uninterrupted view 
of the Beadle's countenance ; and said, with a little 

" Now, sir, you come in consequence of having seen 
the advertisement ? " 

" Yes, sir," said Mr. Bumble. 

" And you are a beadle, are you not ? " inquired Mr. 

" I am a porochial beadle, gentlemen," rejoined Mr. 
Bumble, proudly. 

" Of course," observed Mr. Grimwig aside to his friend, 
" I knew he was. A beadle all over ! " 

Mr. Brownlow gently shook his head to impose silence 
on his friend, and resumed : 

" Do you know where this poor boy is now ? " 

" No more than nobody," replied Mr. Bumble. 

" Well, what do you know of him ? " inquired the old 
gentleman. " Speak out, my friend, if you have any- 
thing to say. What do you know of him ? " 

" You don't happen to know any good of him, do 
you ? " said Mr. Grimwig, caustically ; after an attentive 
perusal of Mr. Bumble's features. 

Mr. Bumble, catching at the inquiry very quickly, 
shook his head with portentous solemnity. 

" You see ? " said Mr. Grimwig, looking triumphantly 
at Mr. Brownlow. 

Mr. Brownlow looked apprehensively at Mr. Bumble's 
pursed-up countenance ; and requested him to commu- 


nicate what he knew regarding Oliver, in as few words 
as possible. 

Mr. Bumble put down his hat ; unbuttoned his coat ; 
folded his arms ; inclined his head in a retrospective 
manner ; and, after a few moments' reflection, com- 
menced his story. 

It would be tedious if given in the beadle's words : 
occupying, as it did, some twenty minutes in the telling ; 
but the sum and substance of it was, that Oliver was 
a foundling, born of low and vicious parents. That he 
had, from his birth, displayed no better qualities than 
treachery, ingratitude, and malice. That he had ter- 
minated his brief career in the place of his birth, by 
making a sanguinary and cowardly attack on an unof- 
fending lad ; and running away in the night-time from 
his master's house. In proof of his really being the 
person he represented himself, Mr. Bumble laid upon 
the table, the papers he had brought to town : and, 
folding his arms again, awaited Mr. Brownlow's ob- 

" I fear it is all too true," said the old gentleman sor- 
rowfully, after looking over the papers. " This is not 
much for your intelligence ; but I would gladly have 
given you treble the money, if it had been favorable to 
the boy." 

It is not at all improbable, that if Mr. Bumble had 
been possessed of this information at an earlier period 
of the interview, he might have imparted a very dif- 
ferent coloring to his little history. It was too late to 
do it now, however ; so he shook his head gravely : and, 
pocketing the five guineas, withdrew. 

Mr. Brownlow paced the room to and fro for some 
minutes ; evidently so much disturbed by the beadle's 


tale, that even Mr. Grimwig forbore to vex him fur- 

At length he stopped, and rang the bell violently. 

" Mrs. Bedwin," said Mr. Brownlow, when the house- 
keeper appeared ; " that boy, Oliver, is an impostor." 

" It can't be, sir. It cannot be," said the old lady 

" I tell you he is," retorted the old gentleman. " What 
do you mean by can't be ? We have just heard a full 
account of him from his birth ; and he has been a 
thorough-paced little villain all his life." 

" I never will believe it, sir," replied the old lady 
firmly. *' Never ! " 

" You old women never believe anything but quack- 
doctors, and lying story-books," growled Mr. Grimwig. 
" I knew it all along. Why didn't you take my advice 
in the beginning ; you would, if he hadn't had a fever, 
I suppose, eh ? He was interesting, wasn't he ? Inter- 
esting ! Bah ! " And Mr. Grimwig poked the fire with 
a flourish. 

" He was a dear, grateful, gentle child, sir," retorted 
Mrs. Bedwin, indignantly. " I know what children are, 
sir ; and have done these forty years ; and people who 
can't say the same, shouldn't say anything about them. 
That's my opinion ! " 

This was a hard hit at Mr. Grimwig, who was a bach- 
elor. As it extorted nothing from that gentleman but a 
smile, the old lady tossed her head, and smoothed down 
her apron preparatory to another speech, when she was 
stopped by Mr. Brownlow. 

" Silence ! " said the old gentleman, feigning an anger 
he was far from feeling. " Never let me hear the boy's 
name again. I rang to tell you that. Never. Never, 


on any pretence, mind ! You may leave the room, Mrs. 
Bedwin. Remember ! I am in earnest." 

There were sad hearts at Mr. Brownlow's that night. 

Oliver's heart sank within him, when he thought of 
his good kind friends ; it was well for him that he could 
not know what they had heard, or it might have broken 




About noon next day, when the Dodger and Master 
Bates had gone out to pursue their customary avocations, 
Mr. Fagin took the opportunity of reading OHver a long 
lecture on the crying sin of ingratitude : of which he 
clearly demonstrated he had been guilty, to no ordinary 
extent, in wilfully absenting himself from the society of 
his anxious friends ; and, still more, in endeavoring to 
escape from them after so much trouble and expense had 
been incurred in his recovery. Mr. Fagin laid great 
stress on the fact of his having taken Oliver in, and 
cherished him, when, without his timely aid, he might 
have perished with hunger ; and he related the dismal 
and affecting history of a young lad, whom, in his phi- 
lanthropy, he had succored under parallel circumstances, 
but who, proving unworthy of liis confidence, and evinc- 
ing a desire to communicate with the police, had unfor- 
tunately come to be hanged at the Old Bailey one 
morning. Mr. Fagin did not seek to conceal his share 
in the catastrophe, but lamented with tears in his eyes, 
that the wrong-headed and treacherous behavior of the 
young person in question, had rendered it necessary 
that he should become the victim of certain evidence 


for the crown : which, if it were not precisely true, was 
indispensably necessary for the safety of him (Mr. Fa- 
gin) and a few select friends. Mr. Fagin concluded by 
drawing a rather disagreeable picture of the discomforts 
of hanging ; and, with great friendliness and politeness 
of manner, expressed his anxious hopes that he might 
never be obliged to submit Oliver Twist to that un- 
pleasant operation. 

Little OHver's blood ran cold, as he listened to the 
Jew's words, and imperfectly comprehended the dark 
threats conveyed in them. That it was possible even 
for justice itself to confound the innocent with the guilty 
when they were in accidental companionship, he knew 
already ; and that deeply laid plans for the destruction 
of inconveniently knowing, or over-communicative, per- 
sons, had been really devised and carried out by the 
old Jew on more occasions than one, he thought by no 
means unlikely, when he recollected the general nature 
of the altercations between that gentleman and Mr. 
Sikes : which seemed to bear reference to some fore- 
gone conspiracy of the kind. As he glanced timidly 
up, and met the Jew's searching look, he felt that his 
pale face and trembling limbs were neither unnoticed, 
nor unrelished by, that wary old gentleman. 

The Jew smiled hideously ; and, patting Oliver on the 
head, said, that if he kept himself quiet, and apjDlied 
himself to business, he saw they would be very good 
friends yet. Then, taking his hat ; and covering him- 
self with an old patched great-coat ; he went out, and 
locked the room-door behind him. 

And so Oliver remained all that day, and for the 
greater part of many subsequent days ; seeing nobody 
between early morning and midnight ; and left during 


the long hours, to commune with his own thoughts : 
which, never failing to revert to his kind friends, and 
the opinion they must long ago have formed of him, 
were sad indeed. 

After the lapse of a week or so, the Jew left the 
room-door unlocked ; and he was at liberty to wander 
about the house. 

It was a very dirty place. The rooms up-stairs had 
great high wooden chimney-pieces and large doors, with 
panelled walls and cornices to the ceilings : which, al- 
though they were black with neglect and dust, were 
ornamented in various ways ; from all of which tokens 
Oliver concluded that a long time ago, before the old 
Jew was born, it had belonged to better people, and 
had perhaps been quite gay and handsome : dismal and 
dreary as it looked now. 

Spiders had built their webs in the angles of the 
walls and ceilings ; and sometimes, when Oliver walked 
softly into a room, the mice would scamper across the 
floor, and run back terrified to their holes. With these 
exceptions, there was neither sight nor sound of any 
living thing ; and often, when it grew dark, and he was 
tired of wandering from room to room, he would crouch 
in the corner of the passage by the street-door, to be as 
near hving people as he could ; and would remain there, 
li-stening and counting the hours, until the Jew or the 
boys returned. 

In all the rooms, the mouldering shutters were fast 
closed : and the bars which held them were screwed 
tight into the wood ; the only light which was admitted, 
stealing its way through round holes at the top : which 
made the rooms more gloomy, and filled them with 
strange shadows. There was a back-garret wmdow, 


with rusty bars outside, which had no shutter ; and out 
of this, Oliver often gazed with a melancholy face for 
hours together ; but nothing was to be descried from it 
but a confused and crowded mass of house-tops, black- 
ened chimneys, and gable-ends. Sometimes, indeed, a 
ragged grizzly head might be seen, peering over the 
parapet-wall of a distant house : but it was quickly 
withdrawn again ; and as the window of Oliver's observ- 
atory was nailed down, and dimmed with the rain and 
smoke of years, it was as much as he could do to make 
out the forms of the different objects beyond, without 
making any attempt to be seen or heard, — which he had 
as much chance of being, as if he had lived inside the 
ball of St. Paul's Cathedral. 

One afternoon: the Dodger and Master Bates being 
engaged out that evening : the first-named young gentle- 
man took it into his head to evince some anxiety re- 
garding the decoration of his person (which, to do him 
justice, was by no means an habitual weakness with 
him) ; and, with this end and aim, he condescendingly 
commanded Oliver to assist him in his toilet, straight- 

Oliver was but too glad to make himself useful ; too 
happy to have some faces, however bad, to look upon ; 
and too desirous to conciliate those about him when he 
could honestly do so ; to throw any objection in the way 
of this proposal. So he at once expressed his readiness; 
and, kneeling on the floor, while the Dodger sat upon 
the table so that he could take his foot in his lap, he 
applied himself to a process which Mr. Dawkins desig- 
nated as "japanning his trotter-cases." Which phrase, 
rendered into plain English, signifieth, cleaning his 


Whether it was the sense of freedom and indepen- 
dence which a rational animal may be supposed to feel 
when he sits on a table, in an easy attitude, smoking a 
pipe, swinging one leg carelessly to and fro, and having 
his boots cleaned all the time, without even the past 
trouble of having taken them off, or the prospective 
misery of putting them on, to disturb his reflections ; or 
whether it was the goodness of the tobacco that soothed 
the feelings of the Dodger, or the mildness of the beer 
that mollified his thoughts, he was evidently tinctui-ed, 
for the nonce, with a spice of romance and enthusiasm, 
foreign to his general nature. He looked down on 
Oliver, with a thoughtful countenance, for a brief space ; 
and then, raising his head, and heaving a gentle sigh, 
said, half in abstraction, and half to Master Bates : 

" What a pity it is he isn't a prig ! " 

" Ah ! " said Master Charles Bates ; " he don't know 
what's good for him." 

The Dodger sighed again, and resumed his pipe : 
as did Charley Bates. They both smoked, for some 
seconds, in silence. 

" I suppose you don't even know what a prig is ? " said 
the Dodger mournfully. 

" I think I know that," replied Oliver, looking up. 
It's a th — ; you're one, are you not ? " inquired Oliver, 
checking himself. 

" I am," replied the Dodger. " I'd scorn to be any- 
think else." Mr. Dawkins gave his hat a ferocious cock, 
after delivering this sentiment ; and looked at Master 
Bates, as if to denote that he would feel obliged by his 
saying anything to the contrary. 

" I am," repeated the Dodger. " So's Charley. So's 
Fagin. So's Sikes. So's Nancy. So's Bet. So we 


all are, down to the dog. And he's the downiest one of 
the lot ! " 

" And the least given to peaching," added Charley- 

" He wouldn't so much as bark in a witness-box, for 
fear of committing himself; no, not if jou tied him up 
in one, and left him there without wittles for a fortnight," 
said the Dodger. 

" Not a bit of it," observed Charley. 

" He's a rum dog. Don't he look jQerce at any strange 
cove that laughs or sings when he's in company ! " pur- 
sued the Dodger. " Won't he growl at all, when he 
hears a fiddle playing ! And don't he hate other dogs 
as a'n*t of his breed ! — Oh, no ! " 

" He's an out-and-out Christian," said Charley. 

This was merely intended as a tribute to the animal's 
abilities, but it was an appropriate remark in another 
sense, if Master Bates had only known it ; for there 
are a great many ladies and gentlemen, claiming to be 
out-and-out Christians, between whom, and Mr. Sikes's 
dog, there exist very strong and singular points of re- 

" Well, well," said the Dodger, recurring to the point 
from which they had strayed : with that mindfulness 
of his profession which influenced all his proceedings. 
"This hasn't got anything to do with young Green 

" No more it has," said Charley. " Why don't you 
put yourself under Fagin, Oliver ? " 

"And make your fortun' out of hand?" added the 
Dodger, with a grin. 

" And so be able to retire on your property, and do 
the gen-teel : as I mean to, in the very next leap-year 


but four that ever comes, and the forty-second Tuesday 
in Trinity-week," said Charley Bates. 

" I don't like it," rejoined Oliver timidly ; " I wish 
they would let me go. I — I — would rather go." 

" And Fagin would rather not ! " rejoined Charley. 

Oliver knew this too well ; but, thinking it might be 
dangerous to express his feelings more openly, he only 
sighed, and went on with his boot-cleaning. 

" Go ! " exclaimed the Dodger. " Why, where's your 
spirit? Don't you take any pride out of yourself ? Would 
you go and be dependent on your friends ? " 

" Oh, blow that ! " said Master Bates : drawing two or 
three silk handkerchiefs from his pocket and tossing them 
into a cupboard, " that's too mean ; that is." 

" / couldn't do it," said the Dodger, with an air of 
haughty disgust. 

" You can leave your friends, though," said Oliver 
with a half smile ; " and let them be punished for what 
you did." 

" That," rejoined the Dodger, with a wave of his pipe, 
" That was all out of consideration for Fagin, 'cause the 
traps know that we work together, and he might have 
got into trouble if we hadn't made our lucky ; that was 
the move, wasn't it, Charley ? " 

Master Bates nodded assent, and would have spoken ; 
but the recollection of OHver's Jflight came so suddenly 
upon him, that the smoke he was inhaling got entangled 
with a laugh ; and went up into his head, and down into 
his throat : and brought on a fit of coughing and stamp- 
ing, about five minutes long. 

" Look here," said the Dodger, drawing forth a hand- 
ful of shillings and halfpence. " Here's a jolly life ! 
What's the odds where it comes from ? Here, catch 


hold ; there's plenty more where they were took from. 
You won't, won't you ? Oh, you precious flat ! " 

" It's naughty, a'n't it, Oliver ? " inquired Charley 
Bates. " He'll come to be scragged, won't he ? " 

" I don't know what that means," replied Oliver. 

" Something in this way, old feller," said Charley. As 
he said it. Master Bates caught up an end of his necker- 
chief; and, holding it erect in the air, dropped his head 
on his shoulder, and jerked a curious sound through his 
teeth : thereby indicating, by a lively pantomimic repre- 
sentation, that scragging and hanging were one and the 
same thing. 

"That's what it means," said Charley. "Look how 
he stares. Jack ! I never did see such prime company 
as that 'ere boy ; he'll be the death of me, I know he 
will." Master Charles Bates, having laughed heartily 
again, resumed his pipe with tears in his eyes. 

" You've been brought up bad," said the Dodger, sur- 
veying his boots with much satisfaction when Oliver had 
polished them. " Fagin will make something of you, 
though, or you'll be the first he ever had that turned out 
unprofitable. You'd better begin at once; for you'll 
come to the trade long before you think of it ; and you're 
only losing time, Oliver." 

Master Bates backed this advice with sundry moral 
admonitions of his own : which, being exhausted, he and 
his friend Mr. Dawkins launched into a glowing descrip- 
tion of the numerous pleasures incidental to the life they 
led, interspersed with a variety of hints to Oliver that the 
best thing he could do, would be to secure Fagin's favor 
without more delay, by the means which they themselves 
had employed to gain it. 

"And always put this in your pipe, Nolly," said the 


Dodger, as the Jew was heard unlocking the door above, 
" if you don't take fogies and tickers " 

" What's the good of talking in that way ? " interposed 
Master Bates : " he don't know what you mean." 

"If you don't take pocket-hankechers and watches," 
said the Dodger, reducing his conversation to the level 
of Oliver's capacity, " some other cove will ; so that the 
coves that lose 'em will be all the worse, and you'll be 
all the worse too, and nobody half a ha'p'orth the better, 
except the chaps wot gets them — and you've just as 
good a right to them as they have." 

" To be sure, to be sure ! " said the Jew, who had en- 
tered, unsepn by Oliver. " It all lies in a nutshell, my 
dear ; in a nutshell, take the Dodger's word for it. Ha ! 
ha ! He understands the catechism of his trade." 

The old man rubbed his hands gleefully together, as 
he corroborated the Dodger's reasoning in these terms ; 
and chuckled with delight at his pupil's proficiency. 

The conversation proceeded no farther at this time, 
for the Jew had returned home accompanied by Miss 
Betsy, and a gentleman whom Oliver had never seen 
before, but who was accosted by the Dodger as Tom 
Chitling ; and who, having lingered on the stairs to ex- 
change a few gallantries with the lady, now made his 

Mr. Chitling was older in years than the Dodger : 
having perhaps numbered eighteen winters; but there 
was a degree of deference in his deportment towards 
that young gentleman which seemed to indicate that he 
felt himself conscious of a slight inferiority in point of 
genius and professional acquirements. He had small 
twinkling eyes, and a pock-marked face ; wore a fur cap, 
a dark corduroy jacket, greasy fustian trousers, and an 


apron. His wardrobe was, in truth, rather out of repair ; 
but he excused himself to the company by stating that his 
" time " was only out an hour before ; and that, in con- 
sequence of having worn the regimentals for six weeks 
past, he had not been able to bestow any attention on his 
private clothes. iVIr. Chitling added, with strong marks 
of irritation, that the new way of fumigating clothes up 
yonder was infernal unconstitutional, for it burnt holes 
in them, and there was no remedy against the County. 
The same remark he considered to apply to the regulation 
mode of cutting the hair : which he held to be decidedly 
unlawful. Mr. Chitling wound up his observations by 
stating that he had not touched a drop of anything for 
forty-two mortal long hard-working days : and that he 
"wished he might be busted if he warn't as dry as a 

" Where do you think the gentleman has come from, 
Ohver ? " inquired the Jew, with a grin, as the other 
boys put a bottle of spirits on the table. 

"I — I — don't know, sir," replied Ohver. 

" Who's that ? " inquired Tom Chithng, casting a con- 
temptuous look at Ohver. 

" A young friend of mine, my dear," rephed the Jew. 

" He's in luck then," said the young man, with a mean- 
ing look at Fagin. " Never mind where I came from, 
young 'un ; you'll find your way there, soon enough, I'll 
bet a crown ! " 

At this sally, the boys laughed. After some more 
jokes on the same subject, they exchanged a few short 
whispers with Fagin ; and withdrew. 

After some words apart between the last comer and 
Fagin, they drew their chairs towards the fire ; and the 
Jew, telling Ohver to come and sit by him, led the con- 

VOL. I. 14 


versation to the topics most calculated to interest his 
hearers. These were, the great advantages of the trade, 
the proficiency of the Dodger, the amiability of Charley 
Bates, and the liberality of the Jew himself. At length 
these subjects displayed signs of being thoroughly ex- 
hausted ; and Mr. Chitling did the same : for the house 
of correction becomes fatiguing after a week or two. 
Miss Betsy accordingly withdrew ; and left the party to 
their repose. 

From this day, Oliver was seldom left alone ; but was 
placed in almost constant communication with the two 
boys, who played the old game with the Jew every day : 
whether for their own improvement or Oliver's, Mr. 
Fagin best knew. At other times the old man would 
tell them stories of robberies he had committed in his 
younger days : mixed up with so much that was droll 
and curious, that Oliver could not help laughing heartily, 
and showing that he was amused in spite of all his better 

In short, the wily old Jew had the boy in his toils ; 
and, having prepared his mind, by solitude and gloom, to 
prefer any society to the companionship of his own sad 
thouglits in such a dreary place, was now slowly instilling 
into his soul the poison which he hoped would blacken it, 
and change its hue forever. 




It was a cliill, damp, windy night, when the Jew : but- 
toning his great-coat tight round his shrivelled body, and 
pulling the collar up over his ears so as completely to 
obscure the lower part of his face : emerged from his 
den. He paused on the step as the door was locked 
and chained behind him ; and having listened while the 
boys made all secure, and until their retreating footsteps 
were no longer audible, slunk down the street as quickly 
as he could. 

The house to which Oliver had been conveyed, was in 
the neighborhood of Whitechapel. The Jew stopped for 
an instant at the corner of the street ; and, glancing sus- 
piciously round, crossed the road, and struck off in the 
direction of Spitalfields. 

The mud lay thick upon the stones : and a black mist 
hung over the streets ; the rain fell sluggishly down : and 
everything felt cold and clammy to the touch. It seemed 
just the night when it befitted such a being as the Jew, 
to be abroad. As he glided stealthily along, creeping 
beneath the shelter of the walls and doorways, the hid- 
eous old man seemed like some loathsome reptile, engen- 
dered in the slime and darkness through which he moved : 


crawling forth, by night, in search of some rich offal for 
a meal. 

He kept on his course, through many winding and nar- 
row ways, until he reached Bethnal Green ; then, turn- 
ing suddenly off to the left, he soon became involved in 
a maze of the mean and dirty streets which abound in 
that close and densely populated quarter. 

The Jew was evidently too familiar with the ground 
he traversed, however, to be at all bewildered, either by 
the darkness of the night, or the intricacies of the way. 
He hurried through several alleys and streets ; and at 
length turned into one, lighted only by a single lamp at 
the farther end. At the door of a house in this street, 
he knocked ; and having exchanged a few muttered 
words with the person who opened it, walked up-stairs. 

A dog growled as he touched the handle of a room- 
door ; and a man's voice demanded who was there. 

" Only me. Bill ; only me, my dear," said the Jew, 
looking in. 

" Bring in your body then," said Sikes. " Lie down, 
you stupid brute ! Don't you know the devil when he's 
got a great-coat on ? " 

Apparently, the dog had been somewhat deceived by 
Mr. Fagin's outer garment ; for as the Jew unbuttoned 
it, and threw it over the back of a chair, he retired to 
the corner from which he had risen : wagging his tail as 
he went, to show that he was as well satisfied as it was 
in his nature to be. 

« Well ! " said Sikes. 

" Well, my dear," replied the Jew. " Ah ! Nancy." 

The latter recognition was uttered with just enough 
of embarrassment to imply a doubt of its reception ; for 
Mr. Fagin and his young friend had not met, since she 


had interfered in behalf of OHver. All doubts upon the 
subject, if he had any, were speedily removed by the 
young lady's behavior. She took her feet off the fender; 
pushed back her chair ; and bade Fagin draw up his, 
without saying more about it : for it was a cold night, 
and no mistake. 

" It IS cold, Nancy dear," said the Jew, as he warmed 
his skinny hands over the fire. " It seems to go right 
through one," added the old man, touching his side. 

" It must be a piercer, if it finds its way through your 
heart," said Mr. Sikes. " Give him something to drink, 
Nancy. Burn my body, make haste ! It's enough to 
turn a man ill, to see his lean old carcase shivering in 
that way, like a ugly ghost just rose from the grave." 

Nancy quickly brought a bottle from a cupboard, in 
which there were many : which, to judge from the diver- 
sity of their appearance, were filled with several kinds 
of liquids. Sikes, pouring out a glass of brandy, bade 
the Jew drink it off. 

" Quite enough, quite, thankye. Bill," replied the Jew, 
putting down the glass, after just setting his lips to it. 

" "What ! you're afraid of our getting the better of you, 
are you ? " inquked Sikes, fixing his eyes on the Jew. 
« Ugh ! " 

With a hoarse grunt of contempt, Mr. Sikes seized 
the glass, and threw ^he remainder of its contents into 
the ashes : as a preparatory ceremony to filling it again 
for himself : which he did at once. 

The Jew glanced round the room, as his companion 
tossed down the second glassful ; not in curiosity : for he 
had seen it often before ; but in a restless and suspicious 
manner which was habitual to him. It was a meanly 
furnished apartment, with nothing but the contents of the 


closet to induce the belief that its occupier was anything 
but a working man ; and with no more suspicious arti- 
cles displayed to view than two or three heavy bludgeons 
which stood in a corner, and a " life-preserver " that 
hung over the chimney-piece. 

" There," said Sikes smacking his lips, " Now I'm 

" For business ? " inquired the Jew. 

" For business," replied Sikes ; " so say what you've 
got to say." 

" About the crib at Chertsey, Bill ? " said the Jew, 
drawing his chair forward, and speaking in a very low 

" Yes. Wot about it," inquired Sikes. 

" Ah ! you know what I mean, my dear," said the 
Jew. " He knows what I mean, Nancy ; don't he ?" 

" No, he don't," sneered Mr. Sikes. " Or he won't ; 
and that's the same thing. Speak out, and call things 
by their right names ; don't sit there, winking and blink- 
ing, and talking to me in hints : as if you warn't the very 
first that thought about the robbery. Wot d'ye mean ? " 

" Hush, Bill, hush ! " said the Jew who had in vain 
attempted to stop this burst of indignation ; " somebody 
will hear us, my dear. Somebody will hear us." 

" Let 'em hear ! " said Sikes ; " I don't care." But as 
Mr. Sikes did care, upon reflectiom he dropped his voice 
as he said the words, and grew calmer. 

" There, there," said the Jew coaxingly. " It was only 
my caution — nothing more. Now, my dear, about that 
crib at Chertsey ; when is it to be done. Bill, eh ? When 
is it to be done ? Such plate, my dear, such plate ! " 
said the Jew : rubbing his hands, and elevating his eye- 
brows in a rapture of anticipation. 


" Not at all," replied Sikes coldly. 

" Not to be done at all ! " echoed the Jew, leaning back 
in his chair. 

" No, not at all," rejoined Sikes. " At least it can't 
be a put-up job, as we expected." 

" Then it hasn't been properly gone about," said the 
Jew, turning pale with anger. " Don't tell me." 

" But I will tell you," retorted Sikes. " Who are you 
that's not to be told ? I tell you that Toby Crackit has 
been hanging about the place for a fortnight ; and he 
can't get one of the servants into a line." 

" Do you mean to tell me, Bill," said the Jew ; soften- 
ing as the other grew heated : " that neither of the two 
men in the house can be got over ? " 

" Yes, I do mean to tell you so," replied Sikes. " The 
old lady has had 'em these twenty year ; and, if you 
were to give 'em five hundred pound, they wouldn't be 
in it." 

" But do you mean to say, my dear," remonstrated the 
Jew, " that the women can't be got over ? " 

" Not a bit of it," replied Sikes. 

" Not by flash Toby Crackit ? " said the Jew incredu- 
lously. " Think what women are. Bill." 

" No ; not even by flash Toby Crackit," replied Sikes. 
" He says he's worn sham whiskers, and a canary waist- 
coat, the whole blessed time he's been loitering down 
there; and it's all of no use." 

" He should have tried moustachios and a pair of mil- 
itary trousers, my dear," said the Jew. 

" So he did," rejoined Sikes, " and they warn't of no 
more use than the other plant." 

The Jew looked very blank at this information. After 
ruminating for some minutes with his chin sunk on his 


breast, he raised his head, and said, with a deep sigh, 
that if flash Toby Crackit reported aright, he feared the 
game was up. 

" And yet," said the old man, dropping his hands on 
his knees, " it's a sad thing, my dear, to lose so much 
when we had set our hearts upon it." 

" So it is," said Mr. Sikes. " Worse luck ! " 

A long silence ensued ; during which, the Jew was 
plunged in deep thought : with his face wrinkled into an 
expression of villany perfectly demoniacal. Sikes eyed 
him furtively from time to time ; Nancy, apparently fear- 
ful of irritating the house-breaker, sat with her eyes fixed 
upon the fire, as if she had been deaf to all that passed. 

"Fagin," said Sikes, abruptly breaking the stillness 
that prevailed, " is it worth fifty shiners, extra, if it's 
safely done from the outside ? " 

" Yes," said the Jew, as suddenly rousing himself. 

" Is it a bargain ? " inquired Sikes. 

" Yes, my dear, yes," rejoined the Jew ; his eyes ghs- 
tening, and every muscle in his face working, with the 
excitement that the inquiry had awakened. 

" Then," said Sikes, thrusting aside the Jew's hand, 
with some disdain, " let it come off as soon as you like. 
Toby and I were over the garden-wall the night afore 
last, sounding the panels of the door and shutters. The 
crib's barred up at night like a jail ; but there's one part 
we can crack, safe and softly." 

" Which is that. Bill ? " asked the Jew eagerly. 

" Why," whispered Sikes, " as you cross the lawn " 

" Yes, yes," said the Jew, bending his head forward, 
with his eyes almost starting out of it. 

" Umph ! " cried Sikes, stopping short, as the girl : 
scarcely moving her head : looked suddenly round, and 


pointed for an instant to the Jew's face. " Never mind 
which part it is. You can't do it without me, I know ; 
but it's best to be on the safe side when one deals with 

" As you like, my dear, as you like," replied the Jew. 
" Is there no help wanted, but yours and Toby's ? " 

" None," said Sikes. " 'Cept a centre-bit and a boy. 
The first we've both got; the second you must find 

" A boy ! " exclaimed the Jew. " Oh ! then it's a 
panel, eh ? " 

" Never mind wot it is ! " replied Sikes. " I want a 
boy ; and he musn't be a big un. Lord ! " said Mr. 
Sikes, reflectively, " if I'd only got that young boy of 
Ned, the chimbley-sweeper's ! He kept him small on 
purpose, and let him out by the job. But the father 
gets lagged ; and then the Juvenile Delinquent Society 
comes, and takes the boy away from a trade where he 
was arning money : teaches him to read and write : 
and in time makes a 'prentice of him. And so they 
go on," said Mr. Sikes, his wrath rising with the recol- 
lection of his wrongs, " so they go on ; and, if they'd 
got money enough, (which it's a Providence they have 
not,) we shouldn't have half a dozen boys left in the 
whole trade, in a year or two." 

" No more we should," acquiesced the Jew, who had 
been considering during this speech, and had only caught 
the last sentence. " Bill ! " 

" What now ? " inquired Sikes. 

The Jew nodded his head towards Nancy, who was 
still gazing at the fire ; and intimated, by a sign, that he 
would have her told to leave the room. Sikes shrugged 
his shoulders impatiently, as if he thought the precaution 


unnecessary ; but complied, nevertheless, by requesting 
Miss Nancy to fetch him a jug of beer. 

"You don't want any beer," said Nancy, folding her 
arms, and retaining her seat very composedly. 

" I tell you I do ! " replied Sikes. 

" Nonsense," rejoined the girl coolly. " Go on, Fagin. 
I know what he's going to say. Bill ; he needn't mind 

The Jew still hesitated. Sikes looked from one to the 
other in some surprise. 

" Why, you don't mind the old girl, do you, Fagin ? " 
he asked at length. " You've known her long enough to 
trust her, or the Devil's in it. She a'n't one to blab. Are 
you, Nancy ? " 

" / should think not ! " replied the young lady : draw- 
ing her chair up to the table, and putting her elbows 
upon it. 

" No, no, my dear, I know you're not," said the Jew ; 
" but " and again the old man paused. 

" But wot ? " inquired Sikes. 

" I didn't know whether she mightn't p'r'aps be out of 
sorts, you know, my dear, as she was the other night," 
replied the Jew. 

At this confession, Miss Nancy burst into a loud laugh ; 
and, swallowing a glass of brandy, shook her head with 
an air of defiance, and burst into sundry exclamations of 
" Keep the game a-going ! " " Never say die ! " and the 
like. These seemed at once to have the effect of reas- 
suring both gentlemen ; for the Jew nodded his head 
with a satisfied air, and resumed his seat ; as did Mr. 
Sikes likewise. 

" Now, Fagin," said Nancy with a laugh. " Tell Bill 
at once, about Oliver ! " 


" Ha ! you're a clever one, my dear ; the sharpest girl 
I ever saw ! " said the Jew, patting her on the neck. " It 
was about Oliver I was going to speak, sure enough. Ha ! 
ha! ha!" 

" What about him ? " demanded Sikes. 

" He's the boy for you, my dear," replied the Jew in a 
hoarse whisper ; laying his finger on the side of his nose ; 
and grinning frightfully. 

" He ! " exclaimed Sikes. 

" Have him, Bill ! " said Nancy. " I would, if I was 
in your place. He mayn't be so much up, as any of 
the others ; but that's not what you want, if he's only 
to open a door for you. Depend upon it he's a safe one, 

" I know he is," rejoined Fagin. " He's been in 
good training these last few weeks ; and it's time he 
began to work for his bread. Besides, the others are 
all too big." 

"Well, he is just the size I want," said Mr. Sikes, 

" And will do everything you want, Bill, my dear,'* 
interposed the Jew ; " he can't help himself. That is, 
if you frighten him enough." 

" Frighten him ! " echoed Sikes. " It '11 be no sham 
frightening, mind you. If there's anything queer about 
him when we once get into the work ; in for a penny, 
in for a pound. You won't see him alive again, Fagin. 
Think of that, before you send him. Mark my words ! " 
said the robber, poising a crowbar : which he had di^awn 
from under the bedstead. 

" I've thought of it all," said the Jew with energy. 
"I've — I've had my eye upon him, my dears, close — 
close. Once let him feel that he is one of us ; once fill 


his mind with the idea that he has been a thief; and he's 
ours ! Ours for his Hfe. Oho ! It couldn't have come 
about better ! " The old man crossed his arms upon his 
breast ; and, drawing his head and shoulders into a heap, 
literally hugged himself for joy. 

" Ours ! " said Sikes. " Yours, you mean." 

" Perhaps I do, my dear," said the Jew, with a shrill 
chuckle. " Mine, if you like. Bill." 

" And wot," said Sikes, scowling fiercely on his agree- 
able friend, " wot makes you take so much pains about 
one chalk-faced kid, when you know there are fifty boys 
snoozing about Common Garden every night, as you 
might pick and choose from ? " 

" Because they're of no use to me, my dear," replied 
the Jew with some confusion, " not worth the taking. 
Their looks convict 'em when they get into trouble ; and 
I lose 'em all. With this boy, properly managed, my 
dears, I could do what I couldn't with twenty of them. 
Besides," said the Jew, recovering his self-possession, 
" he has us now if he could only give us leg-bail again ; 
and he must be in the same boat with us. Never mind 
how he came there ; it's quite enough for my power over 
him that he was in a robbery ; that's all I want. Now, 
how much better this is, than being obliged to put the 
poor leetle boy out of the way : which would be danger- 
ous : and we should lose by it besides." 

" When is it to be done ? " asked Nancy stopping some 
turbulent exclamation on the part of Mr. Sikes, expres- 
sive of the disgust with which he received Fagin's affec- 
tation of humanity. 

" Ah, to be sure," said the Jew, " when is it to be 
done, Bill?" 

" I planned with Toby, the night arter to-morrow," 


rejoined Sikes in a surly voice, " if he heerd nothing 
from me to the contrairy." 

" Good," said the Jew ; " there's no moon." 

" No," rejoined Sikes. 

" It's all arranged about bringing off the swag,* is it ?" 
asked the Jew. 

Sikes nodded. 

" And about " 

" Oh, ah, it's all planned," rejoined Sikes, interrupting 
him. " Never mind particulars. You'd better bring 
the boy here, to-morrow night ; I shall get off the stones 
an hour arter daybreak. Then you hold your tongue, 
and keep the melting-pot ready ; and that's all you'll 
have to do." 

After some discussion, in which all three took an active 
part, it was decided that Nancy should repair to the Jew's 
next evening^ when the nisfht had set in : and brino- Oliver 
away with her ; Fagin craftily observing, that, if he 
evinced any disinclination to the task, he would be more 
willing to accompany the girl who had so recently inter- 
fered in his behalf, than anybody else. It was also sol- 
emnly arranged that poor Oliver should, for the purposes 
of the contemplated expedition, be unreservedly con- 
signed to the care and custody of Mr. William Sikes ; 
and further, that the said Sikes should deal with him as 
he thought fit ; and should not be held responsible by 
the Jew for any mischance or evil that might befall the 
boy, or any punishment with which it might be necessary 
to visit him : it being understood that, to render the com- 
pact in this respect binding, any representations made by 
]\Ir. Sikes on his return should be required to be con- 
firmed and corroborated, in all important particulars, by 
the testimony of flash Toby Crackit. 
* Booty. 


These preliminaries adjusted, Mr. Sikes proceeded to 
drink brandy at a furious rate ; and to flourish the crow- 
bar in an alarming manner ; yelling forth, at the same 
time, most unmusical snatches of song, mingled with wild 
execrations. At length, in a fit of professional enthu- 
siasm, he insisted upon producing his box of housebreak- 
ing tools ; which he had no sooner stumbled in with, and 
opened for the purpose of explaining the nature and 
properties of the various implements it contained, and the 
peculiar beauties of their construction : than he fell over 
it upon the floor, and went to sleep where he fell. 

" Good-night, Nancy," said the Jew, mufiling himself 
up as before. 

" Good-night." 

Their eyes met ; and the Jew scrutinized her, nar- 
rowly. There was no flinching about the girl. She 
was as true and earnest in the matter as Toby Crackit 
himself could be. 

The Jew again bade her good-night ; and, bestowing 
a sly kick upon the prostrate form of Mr. Sikes, while 
her back was turned, groped down-stairs. 

" Always the way ! " muttered the Jew to himself as 
he turned homewards. " The worst of these women is, 
that a very little thing serves to call up some long-for- 
gotten feeling ; and the best of them is, that it never 
lasts. Ha ! ha ! The man against the child for a bag 
of gold ! " 

Beguiling the time with these pleasant reflections, Mr. 
Fagin wended his way, through mud and mire, to his 
gloomy abode : where the Dodger was sitting up, impa- 
tiently awaiting his return. 

" Is Oliver a-bed ? I want to speak to him," was his 
first remark as they descended the stairs. 


" Hours ago," replied the Dodger, throwing open a 
door. " Here he is ! " 

The boy was lying, fast asleep, on a rude bed upon 
the floor; so pale with anxiety, and sadness, and the 
closeness of his prison, that he looked like death ; not 
death as it shows in shroud and coffin, but in the guise 
it weai's when Hfe has just departed ; when a young and 
gentle spirit has, but an instant, fled to Heaven : and the 
gross air of the world has not had time to breathe upon 
the chano-inor dust it hallowed. 

" Not now," said the Jew, turning softly away. " To- 
morrow. To-morrow." 




When Oliver awoke in the morning, he was a good 
deal surprised to find that a new pair of shoes, with strong 
thick soles, had been placed at his bedside ; and that his 
old ones had been removed. At first, he was pleased 
with the discovery : hoping that it might be the forerun- 
ner of his release ; but such thoughts were quickly dis- 
pelled, on his sitting down to breakfast along with the 
Jew, who told him, in a tone and manner which increased 
his alarm, that he was to be taken to the residence of Bill 
Sikes that night. 

" To — to — stop there, sir ? " asked Oliver, anxiously. 

" No, no, my dear. Not to stop there," replied the 
Jew. " We shouldn't like to lose you. Don't be afraid, 
Oliver, you shall come back to us again. Ha I ha ! ha ! 
We won't be so cruel as to send you away, my dear. 
Oh no, no!" 

The old man, who was stooping over the fire toasting 
a piece of bread, looked round as he bantered Oliver 
thus ; and chuckled, as if to show that he knew he would 
still be very glad to get away if he could. 

"I suppose," said the Jew, "fixing his eyes on Oliver, 
" you want to know what you're going to Bill's for — eh, 
my dear ? " 


Oliver colored, involuntarily, to find that the old thief 
had been reading his thoughts ; but boldly said, Yes, he 
did want to know. 

" Why, do you think ? " inquired Fagin, parrying the 

'• Indeed I don't know, sir," replied Oliver. 

" Bah ! " said the Jew, turning away with a disap- 
pointed countenance from a close perusal of the boy's 
face, '■' Wait till Bill tells you, then." 

The Jew seemed much vexed by Oliver s not express- 
ing any greater curiosity on the subject ; but the truth 
is, that, although he felt very anxious, he was too much 
confused by the earnest cunning of Fagin's looks, and 
his own speculations, to make any further inquiries just 
then. He had no other opportunity ; for the Jew re- 
mained very surly and silent till night : when he pre- 
pared to go abroad. 

•'• You may burn a candle," said the Jew, putting one 
upon the table. " And here's a book for you to read, till 
they come to fetch you. Good-night ! " 

" Good-night ! " replied Oliver, softly. 

The Jew walked to the door : looking over his shoulder 
at the boy as he went. Suddenly stopping, he called him 
by his name. 

OHver looked up ; the Jew, pointing to the candle, 
motioned him to light it. He did so ; and, as he placed 
the candlestick upon the table, saAv that the Jew was gaz- 
ing fixedly at hin[% with lowering and contracted brows, 
from the dark end of the room. 

" Take heed, Oliver ! take heed ! " said the old man, 
shaking his right hand before him in a warning manner. 
" He's a rough man, and thinks nothing of blood when 
his own is up. Whatever falls out, say nothing ; and do 

VOL. I. 15 


what he bids you. Mmd ! " Placing a strong emphasis 
on the last word, he suffered his features gradually to 
resolve themselves into a ghastly grin ; and, nodding his 
head, left the room. 

Oliver leaned his head upon his hand when the old 
man disappeared ; and pondered, with a trembling heart, 
on the words he had just heard. The more he thought 
of the Jew's admonition, the more he was at a loss to 
divine its real purpose and meaning. He could think of 
no bad object to be obtained by sending him to Sikes : 
which would not be equally well answered by his remain- 
ing with Fagin ; and after meditating for a long time, 
concluded that he had been selected to perform some 
ordinary menial offices for the house-breaker, until an- 
other boy, better suited for his purpose, could be engaged. 
He was too well accustomed to suffering, and had suffered 
too much where he was, to bewail the prospect of change 
very severely. He remained lost in thought for some 
minutes ; and then, with a heavy sigh, snuffed the can- 
dle : and taking up the book which the Jew had left with 
him, began to read. 

He turned over the leaves. Carelessly at first ; but, 
lighting on a passage which attracted his attention, he 
soon became intent upon the volume. It was a history 
of the lives and trials of great criminals ; and the pages 
were soiled and thumbed with use. Here, he read of 
dreadful crimes that made the blood run cold ; of secret 
murders that had been committed by tjhe lonely wayside : 
and bodies hidden from the eye of man in deep pits and 
wells : which would not keep them down, deep as they 
were, but had yielded them up at last, after many years, 
and so maddened the murderers with the sight, that in 
their horror they had confessed their guilt, and yelled for 


the gibbet to end tbeir agony. Here, too, he read of 
men who, lying in their beds at dead of night, had been 
tempted (as they said) and led on, by their own bad 
thoughts, to such dreadful bloodshed as it made the flesh 
creep, and the limbs quail, to think of The terrible de- 
scriptions were so real and vivid, that the sallow pages 
seemed to turn red with gore ; and the words upon them, 
to be sounded in his ears, as if they were whispered, in 
hollow murmurs, by the spirits of the dead. 

In a paroxysm of fear, the boy closed the book, and 
thrust it from him. Then, falling upon his knees, he 
prayed Heaven to spare him from such deeds ; and 
rather to will that he should die at once, than be reserved 
for crimes so fearful and appalling. By degrees, he grew 
more calm ; and besought, in a low and broken voice, 
that he might be rescued from his present dangers ; and 
that if any aid were to be raised up for a poor out- 
cast boy, who had never known the love of friends or 
kmdred, it might come to liim now : when, desolate and 
deserted, he stood alone in the midst of wickedness and 

He had concluded his prayer, but still remained with 
his head buried in his hands, when a rustling noise 
aroused him. 

" What's that ! " he cried, starting up, and catchuig 
sight of a figure standing by the door. " Who's there ? " 

" Me. Only me," replied a tremulous voice. 

Oliver raised the candle above his head : and looked 
towards the door. It was Nancy. 

" Put down the light," said the girl, turning away her 
head. " It hurts my eyes." 

Oliver saw that she was very pale; and gently in- 
quired if she were ill. The girl threw herself into a 


chair, with her back towards him : and wrung her hands ; 
but made no re^^ly. 

" God forgive me ! " she cried after a while, " I never 
thought of this." 

" Has anything happened ? " asked Oliver. " Can I 
help you ? I will if I can. I will, indeed." 

She rocked herself to and fro ; caught her throat ; 
and, uttering a gurgling sound, struggled and gasped for 

"Nancy ! " cried Oliver, " What is it ? " 

The girl beat her hands upon her knees, and her feet 
upon the ground ; and, suddenly stopping, drew her 
shawl close round her : and shivered with cold. 

Oliver stirred the fire. Drawing her chair close to it, 
she sat there, for a little time, without speaking ; but at 
length she raised her head, and looked round. 

" I don't know what comes over me sometimes," said 
she, affecting to busy herself in arranging her dress ; 
" it's this damp, dirty room, I think. Now, Nolly, dear, 
are you ready ? " 

" Am I to go with you ? " asked Oliver. 

" Yes ; I have come from Bill," replied the girl. " You 
are to go with me." 

" What for ? " said Oliver, recoiling. 

" What for ! " echoed the girl, raising her eyes, and 
averting them again, the moment they encountered the 
boy's face. " Oh ! for no harm." 

" I don't believe it," said Oliver : who had watched her 

" Have it your own way," rejoined the girl, affecting 
to laugh. " For no good, then." 

Oliver could see that he had some power over the 
girl's better feelings ; and, for an instant, thought of ap- 


pealing to her compassion for his helpless state. But, 
then, the thought darted across his mind that it was 
barely eleven o'clock ; and that many people were still 
in the streets : of whom surely some might be found to 
give credence to liis tale. As the reflection occurred 
to him, he stepped forward : and said, somewhat hastily, 
that he was ready. 

Neither his brief consideration, nor its purport, was 
lost on his companion. She eyed him narrowly, while 
he spoke ; and cast upon him a look of intelligence 
which sufficiently showed that she guessed what had 
been passing in his thoughts. 

" Hush ! " said the girl, stooping over him, and point- 
ing to the door as she looked cautiously round. " You 
can't help yourself. I have tried hard for you, but all 
to no purpose. You are hedged round and round ; and 
if ever you are to get loose from here, this is not the 

Struck by the energy of her manner, Oliver looked 
up in her face with great surprise. She seemed to speak 
the truth ; her countenance was white and agitated ; and 
she trembled with very earnestness. 

" I have saved you from being ill-used once : and I 
will again : and I do now," continued the girl aloud ; 
" for those who would have fetched you, if I had not, 
would have been far more rough than me. I have 
promised for your being quiet and silent : if you are not, 
you will only do harm to yourself and me too : and per- 
haps be my death. See here ! I have borne all this for 
you already, as true as God sees me show it." 

She pointed, hastily, to some livid bruises on her neck 
and arms ; and continued, with great rapidity, 

" Remember this ! And don't let me suffer more for 


you, just now. If I could help you, I would; but I 
have not the power. They don't mean to harm you ; 
and whatever they make you do, is no fault of yours. 
Hush ! every word from you is a blow for me. Give 
me your hand. Make haste ! Your hand ! " 

She caught the hand which Oliver instinctively placed 
in hers ; and, blowing out the light, drew him after her 
up the stairs. The door was opened, quickly, by some 
one shrouded in the darkness; and was as quickly closed, 
when they had passed out. A hackney-cabriolet was in 
waiting; with the same vehemence which she had ex- 
hibited in addressing Oliver, the girl pulled him in with 
her ; and drew the curtains close. The driver wanted 
no directions, but lashed his horse into full speed, with- 
out the delay of an instant. 

The girl still held Oliver fast by the hand ; and con- 
tinued to pour into his ear, the warnings and assurances 
she had already imparted. All was so quick and hur- 
ried, that he had scarcely time to recollect where he was, 
or how he came there, when the carriage stopped at the 
house to which the Jew's steps had been directed, on the 
previous evening. 

For one brief moment, Oliver cast a hurried glance 
along the empty street ; and a cry for help hung upon his 
lips. But the girl's voice was in his ear : beseeching 
him in such tones of agony to remember her : that he 
had not the heart to utter it. While he hesitated, the 
opportunity was gone ; for he was already in the house ; 
and the door was shut. 

" This way," said the girl, releasing her hold for the 
first time. " Bill ! " 

" Hallo ! " replied Sikes : appearing at the head of the 
stairs, with a caudle. " Oh ! that's the time of day. 
Come on!" 


This was a very strong expression of approbation : 
an uncommonly hearty welcome : from a person of Mr. 
Sikes's temperament. Nancy, appearing much gratified 
thereby, saluted him cordially. 

" Bullseye 's gone home with Tom," observed Sikes, as 
he Hghted them up. "He'd have been in the way." 

" That's right," rejoined Nancy. 

" So you've got the kid," said Sikes, when they had 
all reached the room : closing the door as he spoke. 

" Yes, here he is," replied Nancy. 

" Did he come quiet ? " inquired Sikes. 

" Like a lamb," rejoined Nancy. 

" I'm glad to hear it," said Sikes, looking grimly at 
Oliver ; " for the sake of his young carcase : as would 
otherways have suffered for it. Come here, young un ; 
and let me read you a lectur', which is as well got over 
at once." 

Thus addressing his new pupil, Mr. Sikes pulled off 
Ohver's cap and threw it into a corner ; and then, taking 
him by the shoulder, sat himself down by the table, and 
stood the boy in front of him. 

" Now, first : do you know wot this is ? " inquired 
Sikes, taking up a pocket-pistol which lay on the table. 

Oliver replied in the afiirmative. 

" Well then, look here," continued Sikes. " This is 
powder ; that 'ere 's a bullet ; and this is a little bit of a 
old hat for waddin'." 

Oliver murmured his comprehension of the different 
bodies referred to ; and Mr. Sikes proceeded to load the 
pistol, with great nicety and deliberation. 

"Now it's loaded," said Mr. Sikes, when he had 

" Yes, I see it is, sir," replied Oliver. 


" Well," said the robber, grasping Oliver's wrist 
tightly : and putting the barrel so close to his temple 
that they touched ; at which moment the boy could not 
repress a start ; " if you speak a word when you're out 
o' doors with me, except when I speak to you, that load- 
ing will be in your head without notice. So, if you do 
make up your mind to speak without leave, say your 
prayers first." 

Having bestowed a scowl upon the object of this warn- 
ing, to increase its effect, Mr. Sikes continued. 

" As near as I know, there isn't anybody as would be 
asking very partickler arter you, if you was disposed of; 
so I needn't take this devil-and-all of trouble to explain 
matters to you, if it warn't for your own good. D'ye 
hear me ? " 

" The short and the long of what you mean," said Nan- 
cy: speaking very emphatically: and slightly frowning at 
Oliver as if to bespeak his serious attention to her 
words, " is, that if you're crossed by him in this job 
you have on hand, you'll prevent his ever telling tales 
afterwards by shooting him through the head ; and will 
take your chance of swinging for it, as you do for a great 
many other things in the way of business, every month 
of your life." 

" That's it ! " observed Mr. Sikes, approvingly ; 
"women can always put things in fewest words. Ex- 
cept when it's blowing up ; and then they lengthens it 
out. And now that he's thoroughly up to it, let's have 
some supper, and get a snooze before starting." 

In pursuance of this request, Nancy quickly laid the 
cloth ; and, disappearing for a few minutes, presently re- 
turned with a pot of porter and a dish of sheep's heads : 
which gave occasion to several pleasant witticisms on the 


part of Mr. Sikes : founded upon the singular coinci- 
dence of " jemmies " being a cant name, common to 
them : and also to an ingenious implement much used 
in his profession. Indeed, the worthy gentleman, stim- 
ulated perhaps by the immediate prospect of being in 
active service, was in great spirits and good humor ; in 
proof whereof, it may be here remarked, that he humor- 
ously di'ank all the beer at a draught ; and did not utter, 
on a rough calculation, more than fourscore oaths during 
the whole progress of the meal. 

Supper being ended — it may be easily conceived that 
Oliver had no great appetite for it — Mr. Sikes disposed 
of a couple of glasses of spirits and water : and threw 
himself upon the bed ; ordering Nancy, with many im- 
precations in case of failure, to call him at five precisely. 
Oliver stretched himself in his clothes, by command of 
the same authority, on a mattress upon the floor ; and 
the girl mending the fire, sat before it, in readiness to 
rouse them at the appointed time. 

For a long time Oliver lay awake ; thinking it not 
impossible that Nancy might seek that opportunity of 
whispering some further advice ; but the girl sat brood- 
ing over the fire, without moving, save now and then to 
trim the light. Weary with watching and anxiety, he 
at length fell asleep. 

When he awoke, the table was covered with tea-things ; 
and Sikes was thrusting various articles into the pockets 
of his great-coat, which hung over the back of a chair : 
while Nancy was busily engaged in preparing breakfast. 
It was not yet daylight ; for the candle was still burn- 
ing ; and it was quite dark outside. A sharp rain, too, 
was beating against the window-panes ; and the sky 
looked black and cloudy. 


" Now, then ! " growled Sikes, as Oliver started up ; 
" half-past five ! Look sharp, or you'll get no breakfast ; 
for it's late as it is." 

Oliver was not long in making his toilet ; and, having 
taken some breakfast, replied to a surly inquiry from 
Sikes by saying that he was quite ready. 

Nancy, scarcely looking at the boy, threw him a hand- 
kerchief to tie round his throat ; and Sikes gave him a 
large rough cape to button over his shoulders. Thus 
attired, he gave his hand to the robber, who, merely 
pausing to show him, with a menacing gesture, that he 
had the pistol in a side-pocket of his great-coat, clasped 
it firmly in his ; and, exchanging a farewell with Nancy, 
led him away. 

Oliver turned, for an instant, when they reached the 
door ; in the hope of meeting a look from the girl. But 
she had resumed her old seat in front of the fire ; and 
sat, perfectly motionless, before it. 




It was a cheerless morning when they got into the 
street ; blowing and raining hard ; and the clouds look- 
ing dull and stormy. The night had been very wet ; for 
large pools of water had collected in the road : and the 
kennels were overflowing. There was a faint glimmer- 
ing of the coming day in the sky ; but it rather aggra- 
vated than relieved the gloom of the scene : the sombre 
light only serving to pale that, which the street-lamps 
afforded : without shedding any warmer or brighter tints 
upon the wet house-tops, and dreary streets. There ap- 
peared to be nobody stirring in that quarter of the town ; 
for the windows of the houses were all closely shut : and 
the streets through which they passed, were noiseless and 

By the time they had turned into the Bethnal Green- 
road, the day had fairly begun to break. Many of the 
lamps were already extinguished ; a few country wagons 
were slowly toiling on, towards London ; and now and 
then, a stage-coach, covered with mud, rattled briskly by: 
the driver bestowing, as he passed, an admonitory lash 
upon the heavy wagoner, who, by keeping on the wrong 
side of the road, had endangered his arriving at the 
office, a quarter of a minute after his time. The public- 
houses, with gas-lights burning inside, were already open. 


By degrees other shops began to be unclosed ; and a few 
scattered people were met with. Then, came straggling 
groups of laborers going to their work ; then, men and 
women with fish-baskets on their heads ; donkey-carts 
laden with vegetables ; chaise-carts filled with live-stock 
or whole carcasses of meat ; milkwomen with pails ; and 
an unbroken concourse of people, trudging out with 
various supplies to the eastern suburbs of the town. As 
they approached the City, the noise and traffic gradually 
increased ; and when they threaded the streets between 
Shoreditch and Smithfield, it had swelled into a roar of 
sound and bustle. It was as light as it was likely to be, 
till night came on again ; and the busy morning of half 
the London population had begun. 

Turning down Sun-street and Crown-street, and cross- 
ing Finsbury-square, Mr. Sikes struck, by way of Chis- 
well-street, into Barbican ; thence into Long-lane ; and 
so into Smithfield ; from which latter place, arose a 
tumult of discordant sounds that filled Oliver Twist with 
surprise and amazement. 

It was market-morning. The ground was covered, 
nearly ankle-deep, with filth and mire ; and a thick 
steam, perpetually rising from the reeking bodies of the 
cattle, and mingling with the fog, which seemed to rest 
upon the chimney-tops, hung heavily above. All the 
pens in the centre of the large area : and as many tem- 
porary ones as could be crowded into the vacant space : 
were filled with sheep ; tied up to posts by the gutter 
side were long lines of beasts and oxen, three or four 
deep. Countrymen, butchers, drovers, hawkers, boys, 
thieves, idlers, and vagabonds of every low grade, were 
mingled together in a dense mass ; the whistling of 
drovers, the barking of dogs, the bellowing and plung- 


ing of oxen, the bleating of sheep, the grunting and 
squeaking of pigs ; the cries of hawkers, the shouts, 
oaths, and quarrelling on all sides ; the ringing of bells 
and roar of voices, that issued from every public-house ; 
the crowding, pushing, driving, beating, whooping, and 
yelling ; the hideous and discordant din that resounded 
from every comer of the market ; and the unwashed, 
unshaven, squalid, and dirty figures constantly running 
to and fro, and bursting in and out of the throng ; ren- 
dered it a stunning and bewildering scene, which quite 
confounded the senses. 

Mr. Sikes, dragging Oliver after him, elbowed his way 
through the thickest of the crowd ; and bestowed very 
little attention on the numerous sights and sounds which 
so astonished the boy. He nodded, twice or thrice to a 
passing friend ; and, resisting as many invitations to take 
a morning dram, pressed steadily onward, until they were 
clear of the turmoil, and had made their way through 
Hosier-lane into Holborn. 

" 'Now, young un ! " said Sikes, looking up at the 
clock of St. Andrew's church, " hard upon seven ! you 
must step out. Come, don't lag behind already. Lazy- 
legs ! " 

Mr. Sikes accompanied this speech with a jerk at bis 
little companion's wrist ; Oliver, quickening his pace into 
a kind of trot, between a fast walk and a run, kept up 
with the rapid strides of the house-breaker as well as he 

They held their course at this rate, until they had 
passed Hyde Park corner, and were on their way to 
Kensington : when Sikes relaxed his pace, until an 
empty cart, which was at some little distance behind, 
came up. Seeing " Hounslow " written on it, he asked 


the driver with as much civility as he could assume, if 
he would give them a lift as far as Isleworth. 

" Jump up," said the man. " Is that your boy ? " 

" Yes ; he's my boy," replied Sikes, looking hard at 
Oliver, and putting his hand abstractedly into the pocket 
where the pistol was. 

"Your father walks rather too quick for you, don't 
he, my man ? " inquired the driver : seeing that Oliver 
was out of breath. 

" Not a bit of it," repHed Sikes, interposing. " He's 
used to it. Here, take hold of my hand, Ned. In with 

Thus addressing Oliver, he helped him into the cart ; 
and the driver, pointing to a heap of sacks, told him to 
lie down there, and rest himself. 

As they passed the different mile-stones, Oliver won- 
dered, more and more, where his companion meant to 
take him. Kensington, Hammersmith, Chiswick, Kew 
Bridge, Brentford, were all passed ; and yet they went 
on as steadily as if they had only just begun their jour- 
ney. At length, they came to a public-house called the 
Coach and Horses : a httle way beyond which, another 
road appeared to turn off. And here, the cart stopped. 

Sikes dismounted with great precipitation : holding 
Oliver by the hand all the while ; and lifting him down 
directly, bestowed a furious look upon him, and rapped 
the side-pocket with his fist, in a very significant man- 

" Good-by, boy," said the man. 

" He's sulky," replied Sikes, giving him a shake ; 
" he's sulky. A young dog ! Don't mind him." 

" Not I ! " rejoined the other, getting into his cart. 
"It's a fine day, after all." And he drove away. 


Sikes waited until he had fairly gone ; and then, tell- 
ing Oliver he might look about him if he wanted, once 
again led him onward on his journey. 

They turned round to the left, a short way past the 
public-house ; and then, taking a right-hand road, walked 
on for a long time : passing many large gardens and 
gentlemen's houses on both sides of the way : and stop- 
ping for nothing but a little beer, until they reached a 
town. Here against the wall of a house, Oliver saw, 
written up in pretty large letters, " Hampton." They 
lingered about, in the fields, for some hours. At length, 
they came back into the town ; and turning into an old 
public-house with a defaced sign-board, ordered some 
dinner by the kitchen-fire. 

The kitchen was an old, low-roofed room ; with a great 
beam across the middle of the ceiling : and benches, with 
high backs to them, by the fire ; on which were seated 
several rough men in smock-frocks, drinking and smok- 
ing. They took no notice of Oliver, and very little of 
Sikes ; and, as Sikes took very little notice of them, he 
and his young comrade sat in a corner by themselves, 
without being much troubled by their company. 

They had some cold meat for dinner ; and sat here so 
long after it, while Mr. Sikes indulged himself with three 
or four pipes, that Ohver began to feel quite certain they 
were not going any farther. Being much tired with the 
walk, and getting up so early, he dozed a little at first ; 
and then, quite overpowered by fatigue and the fumes 
of the tobacco, fell asleep. 

It was quite dark when he was awakened by a push 
from Sikes. Rousing himself sufficiently to sit up and 
look about him, he found that Worthy in close fellowship 
and communication with a laboring man, over a pint of 


" So, you're going on to Lower Halliford, are you ? " 
inquired Sikes. 

" Yes, I am," replied the man, who seemed a httle the 
worse: or better, as the case might be: for drinking; 
" and not slow about it neither. My horse hasn't got a 
load behind him going back, as he had coming up in the 
mornin' ; and he won't be long a-doing of it. Here's 
luck to him ! Ecod ! he's a good un ! " 

" Could yo-u give my boy and me a lift as far as 
there ? " demanded Sikes, pushing the ale towards his 
new friend. 

"If you're going directly, I can," replied the man, 
looking out of the pot. " Are you going to Halhford ? " 

" Going on to Shepperton," rephed Sikes. 

'*I'm your man, as far as I go," replied the other. 
"Is all paid, Becky?" 

" Yes, the other gentleman's paid," replied the girl. 

" I say ! " said the man, with tipsy gravity ; " that 
won't do, you know." 

" Why not ? " rejoined Sikes. " You're a-going to ac- 
commodate us ; and wot's to prevent my standing treat, 
for a pint or so, in return ? " 

The stranger reflected upon this argument, with a 
very profound face ; and having done so, seized Sikes 
by the hand : and declared he was a real good fellow. 
To which Mr. Sikes replied, he was joking ; as, if he 
had been sober, there would have been strong reason to 
suppose he was. 

After the exchange of a few more compliments, they 
bade the company good-night, and went out ; the . girl 
gathering up the pots and glasses as they did so : and 
lounging out to the door, with her hands full, to see the 
party start. 


The horse, whose health had been drunk in his ab- 
sence, was standing outside : ready harnessed to the cart. 
OHver and Sikes got in without any further ceremony ; 
and the man to whom he belonged, having lingered for a 
minute or two " to bear him up," and to defy the hostler 
and the world to produce his equal, mounted also. Then, 
the hostler was told to give the horse his head ; and, his 
head being given to him, he made a very unpleasant use 
of it : tossing it into the air with great disdain, and run- 
ning into the parlor windows over the way ; after perform- 
ing these feats, and supporting himself for a short time 
on his hind legs, he started off at great speed, and rattled 
out of the town right gallantly. 

The night was very dark. A damp mist rose from 
the river, and the marshy ground about ; and spread it- 
self over the dreary fields. It was piercing cold, too ; 
all was gloomy and black. Not a word was spoken ; for 
the driver had grown sleepy ; and Sikes was in no mood 
to lead him into conversation. Oliver sat huddled to- 
gether, in a corner of the cart ; bewildered with alarm 
and apprehension; and figuring strange objects in the 
gaunt trees, whose branches waved grimly to and fro, as 
if in some fantastic joy at the desolation of the scene. 

As they passed Sunbury church, the clock struck 
seven. There was a light in the ferry -house window 
opposite: which streamed across the road: and threw 
into more sombre shadow a dark yew-tree with graves 
beneath it. There was a dull sound of falling water not 
far off; and the leaves of the old tree stirred gently in 
the night-wind. It seemed like quiet music for the re- 
pose of the dead. 

Sunbury was passed through ; and they came again 
into the lonely road. Two or three miles more ; and the 

VOL. I. 16 


cart stopped. Sikes alighted ; and, taking Oliver by the 
hand, they once again walked on. 

They turned into no house at Shepperton, as the 
weary boy had expected ; but still kept walking on, in 
mud and darkness, through gloomy lanes and over cold 
open wastes, until they came within sight of the lights of 
a town at no great distance. On looking intently for- 
ward, Oliver saw that the water was just below them : 
and that they were coming to the foot of a bridge. 

Sikes kept straight on, until they were close upon the 
bridge; and then turned suddenly down a bank upon 
the left. 

" The water ! " thought Oliver, turning sick with fear. 
^*He has brought me to this lonely place to murder 

He was about to throw himself on the ground, and 
make one struggle for his young life, when he saw that 
they stood before a solitary house : all ruinous and de- 
cayed. There was a window on each side of the dilapi- 
dated entrance ; and one story above ; but no light was 
visible. It was dark, dismantled : and, to all appearance, 

Sikes, with Oliver's hand still in his, softly approached 
the low porch, and raised the latch. The door yielded 
to the pressure ; and they passed in together. 




"Hallo!" cried aloud, hoarse voice, directly they 
had set foot in the passage. 

" Don't make such a row," said Sikes, bolting the 
door. " Show a glim, Toby.'* 

" Aha ! my pal," cried the same voice ; " a glim, Bar- 
ney, a glim ! Show the gentleman in, Barney ; and 
wake up first, if convenient." 

The speaker appeared to throw a boot-jack, or some 
such article, at the person he addressed, to rouse him 
from his slumbers ; for the noise of a wooden body, fall- 
ing violently, was heard ; and then an indistinct mutter- 
ing, as of a man between asleep and awake. 

" Do you hear ? " cried the same voice. " There's 
Bill Sikes in the passage with nobody to do the civil to 
him ; and you sleeping there, as if you took laudanum 
with your meals, and nothing stronger. Are you any 
fresher now, or do you want the iron candlestick to wake 
you thoroughly ? " 

A pair of slipshod feet shuffled hastily across the bare 
floor of the room, as this interrogatory was put ; and 
there issued, from a door on the right hand : first, a fee- 
ble candle : and next, the form of the same individual 
who has been heretofore described as laboring under the 


infirmity of speaking through his nose, and officiating as 
waiter at the pubHc-house on Saffron Hill. 

" Bister Sikes ! " exclaimed Barney, with real or coun- 
terfeit joy ; " cub id, sir ; cub id." 

" Here ! you get on first," said Sikes, putting Oliver 
in front of him. " Quicker ! or I shall tread upon your 

Muttering a curse upon his tardiness, Sikes pushed 
Oliver before him ; and they entered a low dark room 
with a smoky fire : two or three broken chairs, a table, 
and a very old couch : on which, with his legs much 
higher than his head, a man was reposing at full length, 
smoking a long clay pipe. He was dressed in a smartly- 
cut snuff-colored coat, with large brass buttons ; an or- 
ange neckerchief; a coarse, staring, shawl-pattern waist- 
coat ; and drab breeches. Mr. Crackit (for he it was) 
had no very great quantity of hair, either upon his head 
or face ; but what he had, was of a reddish dye, and tor- 
tured into long corkscrew curls, through which he occa- 
sionally thrust some very dirty fingers, ornamented with 
large common rings. He was a trifle above the middle 
size, and apparently rather weak in the legs ; but this 
circumstance by no means detracted from his own admi- 
ration of his top-boots, which he contemplated, in their 
elevated situation, with lively satisfaction. 

" Bill, my boy ! " said this figure, turning his head 
towards the door, " I'm glad to see you. I was almost 
afraid you'd given it up : in which case I should have 
made a personal wentur. Hallo ! " 

Uttering this exclamation in a tone of great surprise, 
as his eye rested on Oliver, Mr. Toby Crackit brought 
himself into a sitting posture, and demanded who that 


" The boy. Only tlie boy ! " replied Sikes, drawing a 
chair towards the fire. 

" "Wud of Bister Fagid's lads," exclaimed Barney, with 
a grin. 

'• Fagin's, eh ! " exclaimed Toby, looking at Oliver. 
" Wot an inwalable boy that'll make, for the old ladies' 
pockets in chapels. His mug is a fortun' to him." 

" There — there's enough of that," interposed Sikes, 
impatiently ; and stooping over his recumbent friend, he 
whispered a few words in his ear : at which Mr. Crackit 
laughed immensely, and honored Oliver with a long stare 
of astonishment. 

" Now," said Sikes, as he resumed his seat, " if you'll 
give us something to eat and drink while we're waiting, 
you'll put some heart in us ; or in me, at all events. Sit 
down by the fire, younker, and rest yourself; for you'll 
have to go out with us again to-night, though not very 
far off." 

Oliver looked at Sikes, in mute and timid wonder ; 
and drawing a stool to the fire, sat with his aching head 
upon his hands: scarcely knowing where he w^as, or 
what was passing around him. 

" Here," said Toby, as the young Jew placed some 
fragments of food, and a bottle, upon the table, " Success 
to the crack ! " He rose to honor the toast ; and, care- 
fully depositing his empty pipe in a corner, advanced to 
the table : filled a glass with spirits ; and drank off its 
contents. Mr. Sikes did the same. 

" A drain for the boy," said Toby, half-filling a wine- 
glass. " Down with it, innocence." 

'• Indeed," said Oliver, looking piteously up into the 
man's face ; " indeed I " 

" Down with it ! " echoed Toby. '• Do you think I 


don't know what's good for you ? Tell him to drink it, 

" He had better ! " said Sikes, clapping his hand upon 
his pocket. " Burn my body, if he isn't more trouble 
than a whole family of Dodgers. Drink it, you perwerse 
imp ; drink it ! " 

Frightened by the menacing gestures of the two men, 
Oliver hastily swallowed the contents of the glass, and 
immediately fell into a violent fit of coughing : which de- 
lighted Toby Crackit and Barney, and even drew a smile 
from the surly Mr. Sikes. 

This done, and Sikes having satisfied his appetite 
(Oliver could eat nothing but a small crust of bread 
which they made him swallow), the two men laid them- 
selves down on chairs for a short nap. Oliver retained 
his stool by the fire ; and Barney, wrapped in a 
blanket, stretched himself on the floor: close outside 
the fender. 

They slept, or appeared to sleep, for some time; 
nobody stirring but Barney, who rose once or twice to 
throw coals upon the fire. Oliver fell into a heavy doze : 
imagining himself straying along through the gloomy 
lanes, or wandering about the dark church-yard, or re- 
tracing some one or other of the scenes of the past day : 
when he was roused by Toby Crackit jumping up and 
declaring it was half-past one. 

In an instant, the other two were on their legs ; and all 
were actively engaged in busy preparation. Sikes and 
his companion enveloped their necks and chins in large 
dark shawls, and drew on their great-coats ; while Bar- 
ney, opening a cupboard, brought forth several articles, 
which he hastily crammed into the pockets. 

" Barkers for me, Barney," said Toby Crackit. 


" Here they are," replied Barney, producing a pair of 
pistols. " You loaded them yourself." 

" All right ! " replied Toby, stowing them away. " The 
persuaders ? " 

" I've got 'em," replied Sikes. 

" Crape, keys, centre-bits, darkies — nothing forgot- 
ten ? " inquired Toby : fastening a small crowbar to a 
loop inside the skirt of his coat. 

" All right," rejoined his companion. " Bring them 
bits of timber, Barney. That's the time of day." 

With these words, he took a thick stick from Barney's 
hands, who, having delivered another to Toby, busied 
himself in fastening on Oliver's cape. 

" Now then ! " said Sikes, holding out his hand. 

Oliver : who was completely stupefied by the unwonted 
exercise, and the air, and the drink which had been 
forced upon him : put his hand mechanically into that 
which Sikes extended for the purpose. 

"Take his other hand, Toby," said Sikes. "Look 
out, Barney." 

The man went to the door, and returned to announce 
that all was quiet. The two robbers issued forth with 
Oliver between them. Barney, having made all fast, 
rolled himself up as before, and was soon asleep 

It was now intensely dark. The fog was much heav- 
ier than it had been in the early part of the night ; 
and the atmosphere was so damp, that, although no rain 
fell, OHver's hair and eyebrows, within a few minutes 
after leaving the house, had become stiiF with the half- 
frozen moisture that was floating about. They crossed 
the bridge ; and kept on towards the lights which he had 
seen before. They were at no great distance off; and. 


as they walked pretty briskly, they soon arrived at 

" Slap through the town," whispered Sikes ; " there'll 
be nobody in the way, to-night, to see us." 

Toby acquiesced ; and they hurried through the main 
street of the little town, which at that late hour was 
wholly deserted. A dim light shone at intervals from 
some bed-room window ; and the hoarse barking of 
dogs occasionally broke the silence of the night. But 
there was nobody abroad ; and they had cleared the 
town, as the church-bell struck two. 

Quickening their pace, they turned up a road upon the 
left hand. After walking about a quarter of a mile, 
they stopped before a detached house surrounded by a 
wall : to the top of which Toby Crackit, scarcely paus- 
ing to take breath, climbed in a twinkling. 

" The boy next," said Toby. " Hoist him up ; I'll 
catch hold of him." 

Before Ohver had time to look round, Sikes had 
caught him under the arms ; and in three or four seconds 
he and Toby were lying on the grass on the other side. 
Sikes followed directly. And they stole cautiously to- 
wards the house. 

And now, for the first time, Oliver, well-nigh mad with 
grief and terror, saw that house-breaking and robbery, if 
not murder, were the objects of the expedition. He 
clasped his hands together, and involuntarily uttered a 
subdued exclamation of horror. A mist came before his 
eyes ; the cold sweat stood upon his ashy face ; his limbs 
failed him ; and he sunk upon his knees. 

" Get up ! " murmured Sikes, trembling with rage, and 
drawing the pistol from his pocket. " Get up, or I'll 
strew your brains upon the grass." 


" Oh ! for God's sake let me go ! " cried Oliver ; " let 
me run away and die in the fields. I will never come 
near London ; never, never ! Oh ! pray have mercy on 
me, and do not make me steal. For the love of all the 
bright Angels that rest in Heaven, have mercy upon 
me ! " 

The man to whom this appeal was made, swore a 
dreadful oath, and had cocked the pistol, when Toby, 
striking it from his gra?p, placed his hand upon the boy's 
mouth, and dragged him to the house. 

" Hush ! " cried the man ; "it won't answer here. Say 
another word, and I'll do your business myself with a 
crack on the head. That makes no noise ; and is quite 
as certain, and more genteel. Here Bill, wrench the 
shutter open. He's game enough now, I'll engage. I've 
seen older hands of his age took the same way, for a 
minute or two, on a cold night." 

Sikes, invoking terrific imprecations upon Fagin's 
head for sending Oliver on such an errand, plied the 
crowbar vigorously, but with little noise. After some 
delay, and some assistance from Toby, the shutter to 
which he had referred, swung open on its hinges. 

It was a little lattice window, about five feet and a 
half above the ground : at the back of the house : which 
belonged to a scullery, or small brewing-place, at the 
end of the passage. The aperture was so small, that the 
inmates had probably not thought it worth while to de- 
fend it more securely ; but it was large enough to admit 
a boy of Oliver's size, nevertheless. A very brief ex- 
ercise of Mr. Sikes's art, sufiiced to overcome the fasten- 
ing of the lattice ; and it soon stood wide open also. 

" Now listen, you young limb," whispered Sikes, draw- 
ing a dark lantern from his pocket, and throwing the 


glare full on Oliver's face ; " I'm a-going to put you through 
there. Take this light ; go softly up the steps straight 
afore you ; and along the little hall to the street-door ; 
unfasten it, and let us in." 

" There's a bolt at the top, you won't be able to reach," 
interposed Toby. " Stand upon one of the hall-chairs. 
Tliere are three there, Bill, with a jolly large blue uni- 
corn and a gold pitchfork on 'em : which is the old lady's 

" Keep quiet, can't you ?" replied Sikes, with a threat- 
ening look. " The room-door is open, is it ? " 

" Wide," replied Toby, after peeping in to satisfy him- 
self. " The game of that, is, that they always leave it 
open with a catch, so that the dog, who's got a bed in 
here, may walk up and down the passage when he feels 
wakeful. Ha ! ha ! Barney 'ticed him away to-night. 
So neat ! " 

Although Mr. Crackit spoke in a scarcely audible 
whisper, and laughed without noise, Sikes imperiously 
commanded him to be silent, and to get to work. Toby 
complied, by first producing his lantern, and placing it 
on the ground ; and then by planting himself firmly with 
his head against the wall beneath the window, and his 
hands upon his knees, so as to make a step of his back. 
This was no sooner done, than Sikes, mounting upon him, 
put Oliver gently through the window with his feet first; 
and, without leaving hold of his collar, planted him safely 
on the floor inside. 

" Take this lantern," said Sikes, looking into the room. 
" You see the stairs afore you ? " 

Oliver, more dead than alive, gasped out " Yes." Sikes 
pointing to the street-door with the pistol-barrel, briefly 
advised him to take notice that he was within shot all 


the way ; and that if he faltered, he would fall dead that 

" It's done in a minute," said Sikes, in the same low 
whisper. " Directly I leave go of you, do your work. 
Hark ! " 

" What's that ? " whispered the other man. 

They listened intently. 

" Nothing," said Sikes, releasing his hold of Oliver. 

In the short time he had had to collect his senses, the 
boy had firmly resolved that, whether he died in the 
attempt or not, he would make one effort to dart up- 
stairs from the hall, and alarm the family. Filled with 
this idea, he advanced at once, but stealthily. 

" Come back ! " suddenly cried Sikes aloud. " Back ! 
back ! " 

Scared by the sudden breaking of the dead stillness 
of the place, and by a loud cry which followed it, Oliver 
let his lantern fall and knew not whether to advance or 

The cry was repeated — a light appeared — a vision 
of two terrified half-dressed men at the top of the stairs 
swam before his eyes — a flash — a loud noise — a smoke 
— a crash somewhere, but where he knew not, — and he 
staororered back. 

Sikes had disappeared for an instant ; but he was up 
again, and had him by the collar before the smoke had 
cleared away. 

He fired his own pistol after the men, who were 
already retreating ; and dragged the boy up. 

" Clasp your arm tighter," said Sikes, as he drew him 
through the window. " Give me a shawl here. They've 
hit him. Quick ! Damnation, how the boy bleeds ! " 


Then came the loud ringing of a bell : mingled with 
the noise of fire-arms, and the shouts of men, and the 
sensation of being carried over uneven ground at a rapid 
pace. And then, the noises grew confused in the dis- 
tance ; and a cold deadly feeling crept over the boy's 
heart: and he saw or heard no more. 




The night was bitter cold. The snow lay on the 
ground, frozen into a hard thick crust ; so that only the 
heaps that had drifted into by-ways and corners were 
affected by the sharp wind that howled abroad : which, 
as if expending increased fury on such prey as it found, 
caught it savagely up in clouds, and, whirling it into a 
thousand misty eddies, scattered it in air. Bleak, dark, 
and piercing cold, it was a night for the well-housed and 
fed to draw round the bright fire and thank God they 
were at home ; and for the homeless starving wretch to 
lay him down and die. Many hunger-worn outcasts close 
their eyes in our bare streets, at such times, who, let 
their crimes have been what they may, can hardly open 
them in a more bitter world. 

Such was the aspect of out-of-doors affairs, when Mrs. 
Corney, the matron of the workhouse to which our read- 
ers have been already introduced as the birthplace of 
Ohver Twist, sat herself down before a cheerful fire in 
her own little room ; and glanced, with no small degree 
of complacency, at a small round table : on which stood 
a tray of corresponding size, furnished with all necessary 


materials for the most grateful meal that matrons enjoy. 
In foct, Mrs. Corney was about to solace herself with a 
cup of tea. As she glanced from the table to the fire- 
place, where the smallest of all possible kettles was sing- 
ing a small song in a small voice, her inward satisfaction 
evidently increased, — so much so, indeed, that Mrs. Cor- 
ney smiled. 

" Well ! " said the matron, leaning her elbow on the 
table, and looking reflectively at the fire ; " I'm sure we 
have all on us a great deal to be grateful for ! A great 
deal, if we did but know it. Ah ! " 

Mrs. Corney shook her head mournfully, as if deplor- 
ing the mental blindness of those paupers who did not 
know it ; and thrusting a silver spoon (private property) 
into the inmost recesses of a two-ounce tin tea-caddy, 
proceeded to make the tea. 

How slight a thing will disturb the equanimity of our 
frail minds ! The black teapot, being very small and 
easily filled, ran over while Mrs. Corney w^as moralizing; 
and the water slightly scalded Mrs. Corney's hand. 

" Drat the pot ! " said the worthy matron, setting it 
down very hastily on the hob ; " a little stupid thing, 
that only holds a couple of cups ! What use is it of, to 
anybody ! Except," said Mrs. Corney, pausing, " except 
to a poor desolate creature like me. Oh dear ! " 

With these words the matron dropped into her chair ; 
and, once more resting her elbow on the table, thought 
of her solitary fate. The small teapot and the single 
cup, had awakened in her mind sad recollections of Mr. 
Corney (who had not been dead more than five-and- 
twenty years) ; and she was overpowered. 

" I shall never get another ! " said Mrs. Corney, pet- 
tishly ; " I shall never get another — like him." 


"Whether this remark bore reference to the husband, 
or the teapot, is uncertain. It might have been the lat- 
ter ; for Mrs. Corney looked at it as she spoke : and took 
it up afterwards. She had just tasted her first cup, when 
she was disturbed by a soft tap at the room-door. 

" Oh, come in with you ! " said Mrs. Corney, sharply. 
" Some of the old women dying, I suppose. They always 
die when I'm at meals. Don't stand there, letting the 
cold air in, don't. What's amiss now, eh ? " 

" Nothing, ma'am, nothing," replied a man's voice. 

" Dear me ! " exclaimed the matron, in a much sweeter 
tone, " is that Mr. Bumble ? " 

" At your service, ma'am," said Mr. Bumble, who had 
been stopping outside to rub his shoes clean, and to shake 
the snow off his coat ; and who now made his appear- 
ance, bearing the cocked-hat in one hand and a bundle 
in the other. " Shall I shut the door, ma'am ? " 

The lady modestly hesitated to reply, lest there should 
be any impropriety in holding an interview with Mr. 
Bumble, with closed doors. Mr. Bumble taking advan- 
tage of the hesitation, and being very cold himself, shut 
it without further permission. 

" Hard weather, Mr. Bumble," said the matron. 

" Hard, indeed, ma'am," replied the beadle. " Anti- 
porochial weather this, ma'am. We have given away, 
Mrs. Corney, we have given away a matter of twenty 
quartern loaves and a cheese and a half, this very 
blessed afternoon ; and yet them paupers are not con- 

" Of course not. When would they be, Mr. Bumble ?" 
said the matron, sipping her tea. 

" When, indeed, ma'am ! " rejoined Mr. Bumble. 
" Why, here's one man that, in consideration of his 


wife and large family, has a quartern loaf and a good 
pound of cheese, full weight. Is he grateful, ma'am, is 
he grateful ? Not a copper farthing's worth of it ! What 
does he do, ma'am, but ask for a few coals ; if it's only 
a pocket handkerchief full, he says ! Coals ! "What 
would he do with coals ? Toast his cheese with 'em, 
and then come back for more. That's the way with 
these people, ma'am ; give 'em a apron full of coals 
to-day, and they'll come back for another, the day after 
to-morrow, as brazen as alabaster." 

The matron expressed her entire concurrence in this 
intelligible simile ; and the beadle went on. 

" I never," said Mr. Bumble, " see anything like the 
pitch it's got to. The day afore yesterday, a man — you 
have been a married woman, ma'am, and I may mention 
it to you — a man, with hardly a rag upon his back 
(here Mrs. Corney looked at the floor), goes to our over- 
seer's door when he has got company coming to dinner ; 
and says, he must be relieved, Mrs. Corney. As he 
wouldn't go away, and shocked the company very much, 
our overseer sent him out a pound of potatoes and half 
a pint of oatmeal. * My heart ! ' says the ungrateful vil- 
lain, ' what's the use of this to me ? You might as well 
give me a pair of iron spectacles ! ' ' Very good,' says 
our overseer, taking 'em away again, ' you won't get 
anything else here.' ' Then I'll die in the streets ! ' says 
the vagrant. ' Oh no, you won't,' says our overseer." 

" Ha ! ha ! That was very good ! So Hke Mr. Gran- 
nett, wasn't it ? " interposed the matron. " Well, Mr. 

" Well, ma'am," rejoined the beadle, '' he went away ; 
and he did die in the streets. There's a obstinate pau- 
per for you ! " 


" It beats anything I could have believed," observed 
the matron emphatically. " But don't you think out-of- 
door relief a very bad thing, any way, Mr. Bumble ? 
You're a gentleman of experience, and ought to know. 

" Mrs. Comey," said the beadle, smiling as men smile 
who are conscious of superior information, " out-of-door 
relief, properly managed : properly managed, ma'am : is 
the porochial safeguard. The great principle of out-of- 
door relief, is, to give the paupers exactly what they 
don't want ; and then they get tired of coming." 

" Dear me ! " exclaimed Mrs. Corney. " Well, that is 
a good one, too." 

" Yes. Betwixt you and me, ma'am," returned Mr. 
Bumble, " that's the great principle ; and that's the 
reason why, if you look at any cases that get into them 
owdacious newspapers, you'll always observe that sick 
families have been relieved with slices of cheese. That's 
the rule now, Mrs. Corney, all over the country. But, 
however," said the beadle, stooping to unpack his bundle, 
" these are official secrets, ma'am ; not to be spoken of : 
except, as I may say, among the porochial officers, such 
as ourselves. This is the port-wine, ma'am, that the 
board ordered for the infirmary ; real, fresh, genuine 
port-wine ; only out of the cask this forenoon ; clear as 
a bell ; and no sediment ! " 

Having held the first bottle up to the light, and shaken 
it well to test its excellence, Mr. Bumble placed them 
both on the top of a chest of drawers ; folded the hand- 
kerchief in which they had been wrapped ; put it care- 
fully in his pocket ; and took up his hat, as if to go. 

'' You'll have a very cold walk, Mr. Bumble," said the 

VOL. I. 17 


" It blows, ma'am," replied Mr. Bumble, turning up 
his coat-collar, " enough to cut one's ears off." 

The matron looked, from the little kettle, to the bea- 
dle, who was moving towards the door; and as the beadle 
coughed, preparatory to bidding her good-night, bashfully 
inquired whether — whether he wouldn't take a cup of 

Mr. Bumble instantaneously turned back his collar 
again ; laid his hat and stick upon a chair : and drew 
another chair up to the table. As he slowly seated 
himself, he looked at the lady. She fixed her eyes 
upon the little teapot. Mr. Bumble coughed again, 
and slightly smiled. 

Mrs. Corney rose to get another cup and saucer from 
the closet. As she sat down, her eyes once again en- 
countered those of the gallant beadle; she colored, and 
applied herself to the task of making his tea. Again 
Mr. Bumble coughed, — louder this time than he had 
coughed yet. 

" Sweet ? Mr. Bumble," inquired the matron, taking 
up the sugar-basin. 

" Very sweet, indeed, ma'am," replied Mr. Bumble. 
He fixed his eyes on Mrs. Corney as he said this ; and 
if ever a beadle looked tender, Mr. Bumble was that 
beadle at that moment. 

The tea was made, and handed in silence. Mr. Bum- 
ble, having spread a handkerchief over his knees to 
prevent the crumbs from sullying the splendor of his 
shorts, began to eat and drink ; varying these amuse- 
ments, occasionally, by fetching a deep sigh; which, 
however, had no injurious effect upon his appetite, but, 
on the contrary, rather seemed to facilitate his operations 
in the tea and toast department. 


" You have a cat, ma'am, I see," said Mr. Bumble, 
glancing at one, who, in the centre of her family, was 
basking before the fire ; " and kittens too, I declare ! " 

" I am so fond of them, Mr. Bumble, you can't think," 
replied the matron. " They are so happy, so frohcsome, 
and so cheerful, that they are quite companions for me." 

" Very nice animals, ma'am," replied Mr. Bumble, 
approvingly ; " so very domestic." 

" Oh, yes ! " rejoined the matron with enthusiasm ; 
" so fond of their home, too, that it's quite a pleasure, 
I'm sure." 

" Mrs. Corney, ma'am," said Mr. Bumble, slowly, and 
marking the time with his teaspoon, " I mean to say 
this, ma'am ; that any cat, or kitten, that could live 
with you, ma'am, and not be fond of its home, must 
be a ass, ma'am." 

" Oh, Mr. Bumble ! " remonstrated Mrs. Corney. 

" It's of no use disguising facts, ma'am," said Mr. Bum- 
ble, slowly flourishing the teaspoon with a kind of amo- 
rous dignity which made him doubly impressive ; " I 
would drown it myself, with pleasure." 

" Then you're a cruel man," said the matron viva- 
ciously, as she held out her hand for the beadle's cup ; 
*' and a very hard-hearted man besides." 

" Hard-hearted, ma'am," said Mr. Bumble, " hard ! " 
Mr. Bumble resigned his cup without another word; 
squeezed Mrs. Corney's little finger as she took it ; and 
inflicting two open-handed slaps upon his laced waistcoat, 
gave a mighty sigh, and hitched his chair a very little 
morsel farther from the fire. 

It was a round table ; and as Mrs. Corney and Mr. 
Bumble had been sitting opposite each other : with no 
great space between them, and fronting the fire : it will 


be seen that Mr. Bumble, in receding from the fire, 
and still keeping at the table, increased the distance 
between himself and Mrs. Corney ; which proceeding, 
some prudent readers will doubtless be disposed to ad- 
mire, and to consider an act of great heroism on Mr. 
Bumble's part : he being in some sort tempted by time, 
place, and opportunity, to give utterance to certain soft 
nothmgs, which however well they may become the lips 
of the light and thoughtless, do seem immeasurably be- 
neath the dignity of judges of the land, members of 
parliament, ministers of state, lord mayors, and other 
great public functionaries, but more particularly beneath 
the stateliness and gravity of a beadle : who (as is well 
known) should be the sternest and most inflexible among 
them all. 

Whatever were Mr. Bumble's intentions, however : 
and no doubt they were of the best : it unfortunately 
happened as has been twice before remarked, that the 
table was a round one ; consequently Mr. Bumble, mov- 
ing his chair by little and little, soon began to diminish 
the distance between himself and the matron ; and, con- 
tinuing to travel round the outer edge of the circle, 
brought his chair, in time, close to that in which the 
matron was seated. Indeed, the two chairs touched ; 
and when they did so, Mr. Bumble stopped. 

Now, if the matron had moved her chair to the right, 
she would have been scorched by the fire ; and if to the 
left, she must have fallen into Mr. Bumble's arms ; so 
(being a discreet matron, and no doubt foreseeing these 
consequences at a glance) she remained where she was, 
and handed Mr. Bumble another cup of tea. 

" Hard-hearted, Mrs. Corney ? " said Mr. Bumble, 
stirring his tea, and looking up into the matron's face ; 
" are you hard-hearted, Mrs. Corney ? " 


" Dear me ! " exclaimed tlie matron, " what a very 
curious question from a single man. What can you 
want to know for, Mr. Bumble ? " 

The beadle drank his tea to the last drop ; finished 
a piece of toast ; whisked the crumbs off his knees ; 
wiped his lips ; and deliberately kissed the matron. 

" Mr. Bumble," cried that discreet lady in a whisper ; 
for the fright was so great, that she had quite lost her 
voice, " Mr. Bumble, I shall scream ! " Mr. Bumble 
made no reply ; but in a slow and dignified manner, put 
his arm round the matron's waist. 

As the lady had stated her intention of screaming, 
of course she would have screamed at this additional 
boldness, but that the exertion was rendered unneces- 
sary by a hasty knocking at the door : which was no 
sooner heard, than Mr. Bumble darted, with much agil- 
ity, to the wine-bottles, and began dusting them with 
great violence ; while the matron sharply demanded who 
was there. It is worthy of remark, as a curious phys- 
ical instance of the efficacy of a sudden surprise in 
counteracting the effects of extreme fear, that her voice 
had quite recovered all its official asperity. 

'•' If you please, mistress," said a withered old female 
pauper, hideously ugly : putting her head in at the door, 
" Old Sally is a-going fast." 

" Well, what's that to me ? " angrily demanded the 
matron. " I can't keep her alive, can I ? " 

" No, no, mistress," replied the old woman, " nobody 
can ; she's far beyond the reach of help. I've seen a 
many people die ; little babes and great strong men ; 
and I know when death's a-coming, well enough. But 
she's troubled in her mind : and when the fits are not 
on her, — and that's not often, for she is dying very 


hard, — she says she has got something to tell, which 
you must hear. She'll never die quiet till you come, 

At this intelligence, the worthy Mrs. Corney muttered 
a variety of invectives against old women who couldn't 
even die without purposely annoying their betters ; and, 
muffling herself in a thick shawl which she hastily caught 
up, briefly requested Mr. Bumble to stay till she came 
back, lest anything particular should occur ; and, bidding 
the messenger walk fast, and not be all night hobbling 
up the stairs, followed her from the room with a very 
ill grace : scolding all the way. 

Mr. Bumble's conduct on being left to himself, was 
rather inexplicable. He opened the closet, counted the 
teaspoons, weighed the sugar-tongs, closely inspected a 
silver milk-pot to ascertain that it was of the genuine 
metal ; and, having satisfied his curiosity on these points, 
put on his cocked-hat corner-wise, and danced with much 
gravity four distinct times round the table. Having gone 
through this very extraordinary performance, he took off 
the cocked-hat again ; and, spreading himself before the 
fire with his back towards it, seemed to be mentally en- 
gaged in taking an exact inventory of the furniture. 




It was no unfit messenger of death, that had dis- 
turbed the quiet of the matron's room. Her body was 
bent by age ; her limbs trembled with palsy ; and her 
face, distorted into a mumbling leer, resembled more the 
grotesque shaping of some wild pencil, than the work of 
Nature's hand. 

Alas ! how few of Nature's faces are left to gladden 
us with their beauty ! The cares, and sorrows, and hun- 
gerings, of the world, change them as they change hearts ; 
and it is only when those passions sleep, and have lost 
their hold forever, that the troubled clouds pass off, and 
leave Heaven's surface clear. It is a common thing for 
the countenances of the dead, even in that fixed and 
rigid state, to subside into the long-forgotten expression 
of sleeping infancy, and settle into the very look of early 
life ; so calm, so peaceful do they grow again, that those 
who knew them in their happy childhood, kneel by the 
coffin's side in awe, and see the Angel even upon earth. 

The old crone tottered along the passages, and up the 
stairs, muttering some indistinct answers to the chidings 
of her companion ; and being at length compelled to 


pause for breath, gave the light into her hand, and re- 
mained behind to follow as she might : while the more 
nimble superior made her way to the room where the 
sick woman lay. 

It was a bare garret-room, with a dim light burning at 
the farther end. There was another old woman watch- 
ing by the bed ; and the parish apothecary's apprentice 
was standing by the fire, making a toothpick out of a 

" Cold night, Mrs. Corney," said this young gentle- 
man, as the matron entered. 

" Very cold indeed, sir," replied the mistress in her 
most civil tones, and dropping a courtesy as she spoke. 

" You should get better coals out of your contractors," 
said the apothecary's deputy, breaking a lump on the top 
of the fire with the rusty poker ; " these are not at all 
the sort of thinoj for a cold night." 

" They're the board's choosing, sir," returned the mat- 
ron. " The least they could do, would be to keep us 
pretty warm : for our places are hard enough." 

The conversation was here interrupted by a moan from 
the sick woman. 

" Oh ! " said the young man, turning his face towards 
the bed, as if he had previously quite forgotten the pa- 
tient, " it's all U. P. there, Mrs. Corney." 

" It is, is it, sir ? " asked the matron. 

" If she lasts a couple of hours, I shall be surprised," 
said the apothecary's apprentice, intent upon the tooth- 
pick's point. " It's a break-up of the system altogether. 
Is she dozing, old lady ? " 

The attendant stooped over the bed, to ascertain ; and 
nodded in the affirmative. 

'• Then perhaps she'll go off in that way, if you don't 


make a row," said the young man. " Put the light on 
the floor. She won't see it there." 

The attendant did as she was told ; shaking her head 
meanwhile, to intimate that the woman would not die so 
easily ; having done so, she resumed her seat by the side 
of the other nurse, who had by this time returned. The 
mistress, with an expression of impatience, wrapped her- 
self in her shawl, and sat at the foot of the bed. 

The apothecary's apprentice, having completed the 
manufacture of the toothpick, planted himself in front of 
the fire and made good use of it for ten minutes or so ; 
when apparently growing rather dull, he wished Mrs. 
Corney joy of her job, and took himself off on tiptoe. 

When they had sat in silence for some time, the two 
old women rose from the bed ; and crouching over the 
fire, held out their withered hands to catch the heat. 
The flame threw a ghastly light on their shrivelled faces; 
and made their ugliness appear perfectly terrible, as, in 
this position, they began to converse in a low voice. 

" Did she say any more, Anny dear, while I was 
gone ? " inquired the messenger. 

" Not a word," replied the other. " She plucked and 
tore at her arms for a little time ; but I held her hands, 
and she soon dropped off. She hasn't much strength in 
her, so I easily kept her quiet. I a'n't so weak for an 
old woman, although I am on parish allowance ; — no, 

" Did she drink the hot wine the doctor said she was 
to have ? " demanded the first. 

" I tried to get it down," rejoined the other. " But 
her teeth were tight set ; and she clenched the mug so 
hard that it was as much as I could do, to get it back 
again. So /drank it ; and it did me good ! " 


Looking cautiously round, to ascertain that they were 
not overheard, the two hags cowered nearer to the fire, 
and chuckled heartily. 

" I mind the time," said the first speaker, " when she 
would have done the same, and made rare fun of it after- 

" Ay, that she would," rejoined the other ; " she had a 
merry heart. A many, many, beautiful corpses she laid 
out, as nice and neat as waxwork. My old eyes have 
seen them — ay, and those old hands touched them too ; 
for I have helped her, scores of times." . 

Stretching forth her trembling fingers as she spoke, 
the old creature shook them exultingly before her face ; 
and fumbling in her pocket, brought out an old time-dis- 
colored tin snuff-box, from which she shook a few grains 
into the outstretched palm of her companion, and a few 
more into her own. While they were thus employed, 
the matron, who had been impatiently watching until the 
dying woman should awaken from her stupor, joined 
them by the fire, and sharply asked how long she was to 

" Not long, mistress," replied the second woman, look- 
ing up into her face. " We have none of us long to wait 
for Death. Patience, patience ! He'll be here soon 
enough for us all." 

" Hold your tongue, you doting idiot ! " said the mat- 
ron, sternly. " You, Martha, tell me ; has she been in 
this way before ? " 

" Often," answered the first woman. 

" But will never be again," added the second one, 
" that is, she'll never wake again but once — and mind, 
mistress, that won't be for long." 

" Long or short," said the matron, snappishly, " she 


won't find me here when she does wake ; and take care, 
both of you, how you worry me again for nothing. It's 
no part of my duty to see all the old women in the house 
die, and I won't — that's more. Mind that, you impu- 
dent old harridans. If you make a fool of me again, I'll 
soon cure you, I warrant you ! " 

She was bouncing away, when a cry from the two 
women, who had turned towards the bed, caused her to 
look round. The patient had raised herself upright, and 
was stretching her arms towards them. 

" Who's that ? " she cried, in a hollow voice. 

" Hush, hush ! " said one of the women, stooping over 
her. " Lie down, lie down ! " 

" I'll never he down again alive ! " said the woman, 
struggling. "I will tell her! Come here! Nearer! 
Let me whisper in your ear." 

She clutched the matron by the arm ; and forcing her 
into a chair by the bedside, was about to speak, when 
looking round, she caught sight of the two old women 
bending forward in the attitude of eager hsteners. 

" Turn them away," said the woman, drowsily ; " make 
haste ! make haste ! " 

The two old crones, chiming in together, began pour- 
ing out many piteous lamentations that the poor dear 
was too far gone to know her best friends; and were 
uttering sundry protestations that they would never 
leave her, when the superior pushed them from the 
room, closed the door, and returned to the bedside. On 
being excluded, the old ladies changed their tone, and 
cried through the key -hole that old Sally was drunk; 
which, indeed, was not unlikely ; since, in addition to a 
moderate dose of opium prescribed by the apothecary, 
she was laboring under the effects of a final taste of gin- 


and-water which had been privily administered, in the 
openness of their hearts, by the worthy old ladies them- 

" Now listen to me," said the dying woman, aloud, as 
if making a great effort to revive one latent spark of 
energy. " In this very room — in this very bed — I 
once nursed a pretty young creetur', that was brought 
into the house with her feet cut and bruised with walk- 
ing, and all soiled with dust and blood. She gave birth 
to a boy, and died. Let me think — what was the year 
again ? " 

" Never mind the year," said the impatient auditor ; 
" what about her ? " 

" Ay," murmured the sick woman, relapsing into her 
former drowsy state, " what about her ? — what about — 
I know ! " she cried, jumping fiercely ■ up : her face 
flushed, and her eyes starting from her head — "I 
robbed her, so I did ! She wasn't cold — I tell you she 
wasn't cold, when I stole it ! " 

" Stole what, for God's sake ? " cried the matron, with 
a gesture as if she would call for help. 

" It ! " replied the woman, laying her hand over the 
other's mouth. " The only thing she had. She wanted 
clothes to keep her warm, and food to eat ; but she had 
kept it safe, and had it in her bosom. It was gold, I tell 
you ! Rich gold, that might have saved her life ! " 

" Gold ! " echoed the matron, bending eagerly over the 
woman as she fell back. " Go on, go on — yes — what 
of it ? Who was the mother ? When was it ? " 

" She charged me to keep it safe," replied the woman 
with a groan, " and trusted me as the only woman about 
her. I stole it in my heart when she first showed it me 
hanging round her neck ; and the child's death, perhaps. 


is on me besides ! They would have treated him better, 
if they had known it all ! " 

" Known what ? " asked the other. " Speak ! " 

" The boy grew so like his mother," said the woman, 
rambling on, and not heeding the question, " that I could 
never forget it when I saw his face. Poor girl ! poor 
girl ! She was so young, too ! Such a gentle lamb ! 
Wait ; there's more to tell. I have not told you all, 
have I ? " 

" No, no," replied the matron, inclining her head to 
catch the words, as they came more faintly from the 
dying woman. " Be quick, or it may be too late ! " 

" The mother," said the woman, making a more violent 
effort than before; " the mother, when the pains of death 
first came upon her, whispered in my ear that if her 
baby was born alive, and thrived, the day might come 
when it would not feel so much disgraced to hear its 
poor young mother named. ' And oh, kind Heaven ! * 
she said, folding her thin hands together, ' whether it be 
boy or girl, raise up some friends for it in this troubled 
world ; and take pity upon a lonely, desolate child, aban- 
doned to its mercy ! ' " 

" The boy's name ? " demanded the matron. 

" They called him Oliver," replied the woman, feebly. 
« The gold I stole was " 

" Yes, yes — what ? " cried the other. 

She was bending eagerly over the woman to hear her 
reply ; but drew back, instinctively, as she once again 
rose, slowly and stiffly, into a sitting posture ; then, 
clutching the coverlid with both hands, muttered some 
indistinct sounds in her throat, and fell lifeless on the 


" Stone dead ! " said one of the old women, hurrying 
in as soon as the door was opened. 

" And nothing to tell, after all," rejoined the matron, 
walking carelessly away. 

The two crones, to all appearance, too busily occupied 
in the preparations for their dreadful duties to make any 
reply, were left alone ; hovering about the body. 




While these things were passing in the country work- 
house, Mr. Fagin sat in the old den — the same from 
which Oliver had been removed by the girl — brooding 
over a dull, smoky fire. He held a pair of bellows upon 
his knee, with which he had apparently been endeavor- 
ing to rouse it into more cheerful action ; but he had 
fallen into deep thought ; and with his arms folded on 
them, and his chin resting on his thumbs, fixed his eyes, 
abstractedly, on the rusty bars. 

At a table behind him, sat the Artful Dodger, Master 
Charles Bates, and Mr. Chitling : all intent upon a 
game of whist ; the Artful taking dummy against Master 
Bates and Mr. Chitling. The countenance of the first- 
named gentleman, pecuUarly intelligent at all times, ac- 
quired great additional interest from his close observance 
of the game, and his attentive perusal of Mr. Chitling's 
hand ; upon which, from time to time, as occasion served, 
he bestowed a variety of earnest glances ; wisely regulat- 
ing his own play, by the result of his observations upon 
his neighbor's cards. It being a cold night, the Dodger 
wore his hat, as, indeed, was often his custom, within 
doors. He also sustained a clay pipe between his teeth, 


which he only removed for a brief space when he deemed 
it necessary to apply for refreshment to a quart-pot upon 
the table, which stood ready filled with gin and water 
for the accommodation of the company. 

Master Bates was also attentive to the play ; but being 
of a more excitable nature than his accomplished friend, 
it was observable that he more frequently applied him- 
self to the gin and water ; and moreover indulged in 
many jests and irrelevant remarks, all highly unbecom- 
ing a scientific rubber. Indeed, the Artful, presuming 
upon their close attachment, more than once took occa- 
sion to reason gravely with his companion upon these 
improprieties: all of which remonstrances. Master Bates 
received in extremely good part ; merely requesting his 
friend to be " blowed," or to insert his head in a sack, or 
replying with some other neatly-turned witticism of a 
similar kind: the happy application of which excited 
considerable admiration in the mind of Mr. Chitling. It 
was remarkable that the latter gentleman and his partner 
invariably lost ; and that the circumstance, so far from 
angering Master Bates, appeared to afford him the high- 
est amusement, inasmuch as he laughed most uproariously 
at the end of every deal, and protested that he had never 
seen such a jolly game in all his born days. 

" That's two doubles and the rub," said Mr. Chitling, 
with a very long face, as he drew half-a-crown from his 
waistcoat-pocket. "I never see such a feller as you, 
Jack ; you win everything. Even when we've good 
cards, Charley and I can't make nothing of 'em." 

Either the matter or the manner of this remark, which 
was made very ruefully, delighted Charley Bates so 
much, that his consequent shout of laughter roused the 
Jew from his reverie, and induced him to inquire what 
was the matter. 


" Matter, Fagin ! " cried Charley. " I wish you had 
watched the play. Tommy ChitHng hasn't won a point ; 
and I went partners with him against the Artful and 

" Ay, ay ! " said the Jew, with a grin, which sufficiently 
demonstrated that he was at no loss to understand the 
reason. " Try 'em again, Tom ; try *em again." 

" No more of it for me, thankee, Fagin," replied Mr. 
Chitling ; " I've had enough. That ere Dodger has 
such a run of luck that there's no standing again' 

" Ha ! ha ! my dear," replied the Jew, " you must get 
up very early in the morning, to win against the 

" Morning ! " said Charley Bates ; " you must put 
your boots on overnight ; and have a telescope at each 
eye, and a opera-glass between your shoulders, if you 
want to come over him." 

Mr. Dawkins received these handsome compliments 
with much philosophy, and offered to cut any gentleman 
in company, for the first picture-card, at a shilling a time. 
Nobody accepting the challenge, and his pipe being by 
this time smoked out, he proceeded to amuse himself by 
sketching a ground-plan of Newgate on the table with 
the piece of chalk which had served him in lieu of count- 
ers ; whistling, meantime, with peculiar shrillness. 

" How precious dull you are, Tommy ! " said the 
Dodger, stopping short when there had been a long 
silence ; and addressing Mr. Chitling. " What do you 
think he's thinking of, Fagin ? " 

" How should I know, my dear ? " replied the Jew, 
looking round as he plied the bellows. " About his 
losses, maybe ; or the little retirement in the country 

VOL. I. 18 


that he's just left, eh ? Ha ! ha ! Is that it, my 

" Not a bit of it," replied the Dodger, stopping the 
subject of discourse as Mr. Chitling was about to reply. 
" What do you say, Charley ? " 

" I should say," replied Master Bates, with a grin, 
" that he was uncommon sweet upon Betsy. See how 
he's a-blushing ! Oh, my eye ! here's a merry-go-round- 
er ! Tommy Chitling's in love ! Oh, Fagin, Fagin ! 
what a spree ! " 

Thoroughly overpowered with the notion of Mr. Chit- 
ling being the victim of the tender passion. Master Bates 
threw himself back in his chair with such violence, that 
he lost his balance, and pitched over upon the floor; 
where (the accident abating nothing of his merriment) 
he lay at full length until his laugh was over, when he 
resumed his former position, and began another. 

" Never mind him, my dear," said the Jew, winking at 
Mr. Dawkins, and giving Master Bates a reproving tap 
with the nozzle of the bellows. " Betsy's a fine girl. 
Stick up to her, Tom. Stick up to her." 

" What I mean to say, Fagin," replied Mr. Chitling, 
very red in the face, " is, that that isn't anything to any- 
body here." 

" No more it is," replied tlie Jew ; " Charley will talk. 
Don't mind him, my dear ; don't mind him. Betsy's a 
fine girl. Do as she bids you, Tom, and you will make 
your fortune." 

" So I c?a do, as she bids me," replied Mr. Chitling ; 
" I shouldn't have been milled, if it hadn't been for her 
advice. But it turned out a good job for you ; didn't it, 
Fagin ! And what's six weeks of it ? It must come, 
sometime or another ; and why not in the winter-time 


when you don't want to go out a-walking so much ; eh, 
Fagin ? " 

" Ah, to be sure, my dear," replied the Jew. 

" You wouldn't mind it again, Tom, would you ? ^ 
asked the Dodger, winking upon Charley and the Jew, 
" if Bet was all right ? " 

" I mean to say that I shouldn't," replied Tom, angrily. 
" There, now. Ah ! Who'll say as much as that, I 
should like to know ; eh, Fagin ? " 

" Nobody, my dear," replied the Jew ; " not a soul, 
Tom. I don't know one of 'em that would do it besides 
you ; not one of 'em, my dear." 

" I might have got clear off, if I'd split upon her ; 
mightn't I, Fagin ? " angrily pursued the poor half-witted 
dupe. " A word from me would have done it ; wouldn't 
it, Fagin ? " 

" To be sure it would, my dear," replied the Jew. 

" But I didn't blab it ; did I, Fagin?" demanded Tom, 
pouring question upon question with great volubility. 

" No, no, to be sure," replied the Jew ; " you were 
too stout-hearted for that. A deal too stout, my dear ! " 

" Perhaps I was," rejoined Tom, looking round ; " and 
if I was, what's to laugh at, in that ; eh, Fagin ? " 

The Jew, perceiving that Mr. Chitling was considera- 
bly roused, hastened to assure him that nobody was 
laughing ; and to prove the gravity of the company, ap- 
pealed to Master Bates, the principal offender. But, 
unfortunately, Charley, in opening his mouth to reply 
that he was never more serious in his life, was unable to 
prevent the escape of such a violent roar, that the abused 
jVIi'. Chitling, without any preliminary ceremonies, 
rushed across the room, and aimed a blow at the of- 
fender, who, being skilful in evading pursuit, ducked to 


avoid it ; and chose his time so well that it lighted on 
the chest of the meriy old gentleman, and caused him to 
stagger to the wall, where he stood panting for breath, 
while Mr. Chitling looked on, in intense dismay. 

" Hark ! " cried the Dodger at this moment, " I heard 
the tinkler." Catching up the light, he crept softly up- 
stairs. , 

The bell was rung again, with some impatience, while 
the party were in darkness. After a short pause, the 
Dodger reappeared ; and whispered Fagin mysteriously. 

« What ! " cried the Jew, " alone ? " 

The Dodger nodded in the affirmative ; and, shading 
the flame of the candle with his hand, gave Charley 
Bates a private intimation, in dumb show, that he had 
better not be funny just then. Having performed this 
friendly office, he fixed his eyes on the Jew's face, and 
awaited his directions. 

The old man bit his yellow fingers, and meditated for 
some seconds ; his face working with agitation, the while, 
as if he dreaded something, and feared to know the worst. 
At length he raised his head. 

" Where is he ? " he asked. 

The Dodger pointed to the floor above ; and made a 
gesture, as if to leave the room. 

" Yes," said the Jew, answering the mute inquiry ; 
" bring him down. Hush ! Quiet, Charley ! Gently, 
Tom ! Scarce, scarce ! " 

This brief direction to Charley Bates, and his recent 
antagonist, was softly and immediately obeyed. There 
was no sound of their whereabout, when the Dodger 
descended the stairs, bearing the light in his hand, and 
followed by a man in a coarse smock-frock ; who, after 
casting a hurried glance round the room, pulled off a 


large wrapper which had concealed the lower portion of 
his face, and disclosed : all haggard, unwashed, and un- 
shorn : the features of flash Toby Crackit. 

" How are you, Fagey ? " said this worthy, nodding to 
the Jew. " Pop that shawl away in my castor, Dodger, 
so that I may know where to find it when I cut ; that's 
the time of day ! You'll be a fine young cracksman afore 
the old file now." 

With these words he pulled up the smock-frock ; and, 
winding it round his middle, drew a chair to the fire, and 
placed his feet upon the hob. 

" See there, Fagey," he said, pointing disconsolately to 
his top-boots ; " not a drop of Day and Martin since you 

know when ; not a bubble of blacking, by ! But 

don't look at me in that way, man. All in good time ; I 
can't talk about business till I've eat and drank ; so pro- 
duce the sustainance, and let's have a quiet fill-out for 
the first time these three days ! " 

The Jew motioned to the Dodger to place what eata- 
bles there were, upon the table ; and, seating himself 
opposite the house-breaker, waited his leisure. 

To judge from appearances, Toby was by no means in 
a hurry to open the conversation. At first, the Jew con- 
tented himself with patiently watching his countenance, 
as if to gain from its expression some clue to the intelli- 
gence he brought ; but in vain. He looked tired and 
worn, but there was the same complacent repose upon 
his features that they always wore : and through dirt, 
and beard, and whisker, there still shone, unimpaired, 
the self-satisfied smirk of flash Toby Crackit. Then the 
Jew, in an agony of impatience, watched every morsel he 
put into his mouth ; pacing up and down the room, mean- 
while, in in'epressible excitement. It was all of no use. 


Toby continued to eat with the utmost outward indiffer- 
ence, until he could eat no more ; then, ordering the 
Dodger out, he closed the door, mixed a glass of spirits 
and water, and composed himself for talking. 

" First and foremost, Fagey," said Toby. 

" Yes, yes ! " interposed the Jew, drawing up his chair. 

Mr. Crackit stopped to take a draught of spirits and 
water, and to declare that the gin was excellent ; and 
then placing his feet against the low mantel-piece, so as 
to bring his boots to about the level of his eye, quietly 

" First and foremost, Fagey," said the house-breaker, 
'' how's Bill ? " 

" What ! " screamed the Jew, starting from his seat. 

" Why, you don't mean to say " began Tobey, 

turning pale. 

" Mean ! " cried the Jew, stamping furiously on the 
ground. " Where are they ? Sikes and the boy! Where 
are they ? Where have they been ? Where are they 
hiding ? Why have they not been here ? " 

" The crack failed," said Tobey, faintly. 

" I know it," replied the Jew, tearing a newspaper 
from his pocket, and pointing to it. " What more ? " 

" They fired, and hit the boy. We cut over the fields 
at the back with him between us — straight as the crow 
flies — through hedge and ditch. They gave chase. 
D — me ! the whole country was awake, and the dogs 
upon us." 

" The boy ! " gasped the Jew. 

" Bill had him on his back, and scudded like the wind. 
We stopped to take him between us ; his head hung 
down ; and he was cold. They were close upon our 
heels ; every man for himself, and each from the gal- 


lows ! "We parted company, and left the youngster 
lying in a ditch. Alive or dead, that's all I know about 

The Jew stopped to hear no more ; but uttering a loud 
yell, and twining his hands in his hair, rushed from the 
room, and from the house. 




The old man had gained the street- corner, before he 
began to recover the effect of Toby Crackit's intelli- 
gence. He had relaxed nothing of his unusual speed; 
but was still pressing onward, in the same wild and dis- 
ordered manner, when the sudden dashing past of a car- 
riage : and a boisterous cry from the foot-passengers, who 
saw his danger : drove him back upon the pavement. 
Avoiding, as much as possible, all the main streets ; and 
skulking only through the by-ways and alleys ; he at 
length emerged on Snow Hill. Here he walked even 
faster than before ; nor did he linger until he had again 
turned into a court ; when, as if conscious that he was 
now in his proper element, he fqll into his usual shuffling 
pace, and seemed to breathe more freely. Near to the 
spot on which Snow Hill and Holborn Hill meet, there 
opens : upon the right hand as you come out of the city : 
a narrow and dismal alley leading to Saffron Hill. In 
its filthy shops are exposed for sale, huge bunches of 
second-hand silk handkerchiefs, of all sizes and patterns ; 
for here reside the traders who purchase them from pick- 
pockets. Hundreds of these handkerchiefs hang dang- 


ling from pegs outside the windows or flaunting from the 
door-post ; and the shelves, within, are piled with them. 
Confined as the limits of Field Lane are, it has its bar- 
ber, its coffee-shop, its beer-shop, and its fried-fish ware- 
house. It is a commercial colony of itself : the emporium 
of petty larceny : visited at early morning, and setting-in 
of dusk, by silent merchants, who traffic in dark back- 
parlors ; and who go as strangely as they come. Here, 
the clothes-man, the shoe-vamper, and the rag-merchant, 
display their goods, as sign-boards to the petty thief; 
here, stores of old iron and bones, and heaps of mildewy 
fragments of woollen-stuff and linen, rust and rot in the 
grimy cellars. 

It was into this place, that the Jew turned. He was 
well known to the sallow denizens of the lane ; for such 
of them as were on the look-out to buy or sell, nodded 
familiarly as he passed along. He replied to their salu- 
tations in the same way ; but bestowed no closer recog- 
nition until he reached the farther end of the alley ; 
when he stopped, to address a salesman of small stature, 
who had squeezed as much of his person into a child's 
chair as the chair would hold : and was smoking a pipe 
at his warehouse door. 

" Why, the sight of you, Mr. Fagin, would cure the 
hoptalmy ! " said this respectable trader, in acknowledg- 
ment of the Jew's inquiry after his health. 

" The neighborhood was a Httle too hot. Lively," said 
Fagin, elevating his eyebrows, and crossing his hands 
upon his shoulders. 

" "Well, I've heerd that complaint of it, once or twice 
before," replied the trader ; " but it soon cools down 
again ; don't you find it so ? " 

Fagin nodded in the aflirmative. Pointing in the 


direction of Saffron Hill, lie inquired whether any one 
was up yonder to-night. 

" At the Cripples ? " inquired the man. 

The Jew nodded. 

" Let me see," pursued the merchant reflecting. " Yes, 
there's some half-dozen of 'em gone in, that I knows. I 
don't think your friend 's there." 

" Sikes is not, I suppose ? " inquired the Jew, with a 
disappointed countenance. 

" Non istwentus, as the lawyers say," replied the little 
man, shaking his head, and looking amazingly sly. " Have 
you got anything in my line to-night ? " 

" Nothing to-night," said the Jew, turning away. 

" Are you going up to the Cripples, Fagin ? " cried 
the little man, calling after him. " Stop ! I don't mind 
if I have a drop there with you ! " 

But as the Jew, looking back, waved his hand to inti- 
mate that he preferred being alone ; and, moreover, as 
the little man could not very easily disengage himself from 
the chair ; the sign of the Cripples was, for a time, bereft 
of the advantage of Mr. Lively's presence. By the time 
he had got upon his legs, the Jew had disappeared ; so 
Mr. Lively, after ineffectually standing on tiptoe, in the 
hope of catching sight of him, again forced himself into 
the little chair : and, exchanging a shake of the head 
with a lady in the opposite shop, in which doubt and 
mistrust were plainly mingled, resumed his pipe with a 
grave demeanor. 

The Three Cripples, or rather the Cripples : which 
was the sign by which the establishment was familiarly 
known to its patrons : was the same public-house in 
which Mr. Sikes and his dog have already figured. 
Merely making a sign to a man at the bar, Fagin 


walked straight up-stairs ; and opening tlie door of a 
room, and softly insinuating himself into the chamber, 
looked anxiously about : shading his eyes with his hand, 
as if in search of some particular person. 

The room was illuminated by two gas-lights ; the glare 
of which was prevented by the barred shutters, and 
closely-drawn curtains of faded red, from being visible 
outside. The ceihng was blackened, to prevent its color 
from being injured by the flaring of the lamps ; and the 
place was so full of dense tobacco-smoke, that at first it 
was scarcely possible to discern anything more. By de- 
grees, however, as some of it cleared away through the 
open door, an assemblage of heads, as confused as the 
noises that greeted the ear, might be made out ; and as 
the eye grew more accustomed to the scene, the spectator 
gradually became aware of the presence of a numerous 
company, male and female, crowded round a long table : 
at the upper end of which, sat a chairman with a ham- 
mer of office in his hand ; while a professional gentle- 
man, with a bluish nose, and his face tied up for the 
benefit of a toothache, presided at a jingling piano in a 
remote corner. 

As Fagin stepped softly in, the professional gentleman, 
running over the keys by way of prelude, occasioned 
a general cry of order for a song ; which, having sub- 
sided, a young lady proceeded to entertain the company 
with a ballad in four verses, between each of which the 
accompanyist played the melody, all through, as loud as 
he could. When this was over, the chairman gave a sen- 
timent; after which, the professional gentlemen on the 
chairman's right and left volunteered a duet : and sang it, 
with great applause. 

It was curious to observe some faces which stood out 


prominently from among the group. There was the 
chairman himself, (the landlord of the house,) a coarse, 
rough, heavy-built fellow, who, while the songs were pro- 
ceeding, rolled his eyes hither and thither, and, seeming 
to give himself up to joviality, had an eye for everything 
that was done, and an ear for everything that was said — 
and sharp ones, too. Near him, were the singers : re- 
ceiving, with professional indifference, the compliments 
of the company : and applying themselves, in turn, to a 
dozen proffered glasses of spirits and water, tendered by 
their more boisterous admirers ; whose countenances, ex- 
pressive of almost every vice in almost every grade, irre- 
sistibly attracted the attention by their very repulsiveness. 
Cunning, ferocity, and drunkenness in all its stages, were 
there, in their strongest aspects ; and women : some with 
the last lingering tinge of their early freshness, almost 
fading as you looked : others with every mark and stamp 
of their sex utterly beaten out, and presenting but one 
loathsome blank of profligacy and crime : some mere 
girls, others but young women, and none past the prime 
of life : formed the darkest and saddest portion of this 
dreary picture. 

Fagin, troubled by no grave emotions, looked eagerly 
from face to face while these proceedings were in prog- 
ress ; but, apparently, without meeting that of which he 
was in search. Succeeding, at length, in catching the eye 
of the man who occupied the chair, he beckoned to him 
slightly, and left the room, as quietly as he had entered it. 

" What can I do for you, Mr. Fagin ? " inquired the 
man, as he followed him out to the landing. "Won't 
you join us? They'll be delighted, every one of 'em." 

The Jew shook his head impatiently, and said in a 
whisper, " Is he here ? " 


" No," replied the man. 

" And no news of Barney ? " inquired Fagin. 

" None," replied the landlord of The Cripples ; for it 
was he. " He won't stir till it's all safe. Depend on it, 
they're on the scent down there ; and that if he moved, 
he'd blow upon the thing at once. He's all right enough, 
Barney is, else I should have heard of him. I'll pound 
it, that Barney's managing properly. Let him alone for 

" Will he be here to-night ? " asked the Jew, laying the 
same emphasis on the pronoun as before. 

" Monks, do you mean ? " inquired the landlord, hesi- 

" Hush ! " said the Jew. « Yes.'' 

" Certain," replied the man, drawing a gold watch from 
his fob ; " I expected him here, before now. If you'll 
wait ten minutes, he'll be " 

" No, no," said the Jew, hastily ; as though, however 
desirous he might be to see the person in question, he 
was nevertheless relieved by his absence. " Tell him I 
came here to see him ; and that he must come to me to- 
night. No, say to-morrow. As he is not here, to-morrow 
will be time enough." 

" Good ! " said the man. " Nothing more ? " 

" Not a word now," said the Jew, descending the 

" I say," said the other, looking over the rails, and 
speaking in a hoarse whisper ; " what a time this would 
be for a sell ! I've got Phil Barker here : so drunk, 
that a boy might take him." 

"Aha! But it's not Phil Barker's time," said the Jew, 
looking up. " Phil has something more to do, before we 
can afford to part with him ; so go back to the company, 


my dear, and tell them to lead merry lives — while they 
last. Ha ! ha ! ha ! " 

The landlord reciprocated the old man's laugh, and 
returned to his guests. The Jew was no sooner alone, 
than his countenance resumed its former expression of 
anxiety and thought. After a brief reflection, he called 
a hack-cabriolet, and bade the man drive towards Beth- 
nal Green. He dismissed him within some quarter of a 
mile of Mr. Sikes's residence ; and performed the short 
remainder of the distance on foot. 

" Now," muttered the Jew, as he knocked at the door, 
" if there is any deep play here, I shall have it out of 
you, my girl, cunning as you are." 

She was in her room, the woman said. Fagin crept 
softly up-stairs, and entered it without any previous cer- 
emony. The girl was alone ; lying with her head upon 
the table, and her hair straggling over it. 

" She has been drinking," thought the Jew, coolly, " or 
perhaps she is only miserable." 

The old man turned to close the door, as he made 
this reflection ; and the noise thus occasioned, roused the 
girl. She eyed his crafty face narrowly, as she inquired 
whether there was any news, and listened to his recital 
of Toby Crackit's story. When it was concluded, she 
sank into her former attitude, but spoke not a word. 
She pushed the candle impatiently away ; and once or 
twice, as she feverishly changed her position, shuffled 
her feet upon the ground ; but this was all. 

During this silence, the Jew looked restlessly about 
the room, as if to assure himself that there were no 
appearances of Sikes having covertly returned. Ap- 
parently satisfied with his inspection, he coughed twice 
or thrice, and made as many efforts to open a conversa- 


tion ; but the girl heeded him no more than if he had 
been made of stone. At length he made another at- 
tempt ; and, rubbing his hands together, said, in his 
most conciliatory tone, 

" And where should you think Bill was now, my 
dear ? " 

The girl moaned out some half intelligible reply, that 
she could not tell ; and seemed, from the smothered noise 
that escaped her, to be crying. 

" And the boy, too," said the Jew, straining his eyes to 
catch a glimpse of her face. " Poor leetle child ! Left 
in a ditch, Nance ; only think ! " 

" The child," said the girl, suddenly looking up, " is 
better where he is, than among us ; and if no harm 
comes to Bill from it, I hope he lies dead in the ditch, 
and that his young bones may rot there." 

'• TVhat ! " cried the Jew, in amazement. 

" Ay, I do," returned the girl, meeting his gaze. " I 
shall be glad to have him away from my eyes, and to 
know that the worst is over. I can't bear to have him 
about me. The sight of him turns me against myself, 
and all of you." 

" Pooh ! " said the Jew, scornfully. " You're drunk." 

" Am I ? " cried the girl, bitterly. " It's no fault of 
yours, if I am not ! you'd never have me anything else, 
if you had your will, except now ; — the humor doesn't 
suit you, doesn't it ? " 

" No ! " rejoined the Jew, furiously. " It does not." 

" Change it, then ! " responded the girl, with a laugh. 

'• Change it ! " exclaimed the Jew, exasperated beyond 
all bounds by his companion's unexpected obstinacy, and 
the vexation of the night, " I will change it ! Listen 
to me, you drab. Listen to me, who, with six words, 


can strangle Sikes as surely as if I had his bull's throat 
between my fingers now. If he comes back, and leaves 
that boy behind him, — if he gets off free ; and, dead or 
alive, fails to restore him to me ; murder him yourself 
if you would have him escape Jack Ketch : and do it 
the moment he sets foot in this room, or mind me, it 
will be too late ! " 

" What is all this ? " cried the girl, involuntarily. 

" What is it ? " pursued Fagin, mad with rage. " When 
the boy 's worth hundreds of pounds to me, am I to lose 
what chance threw me in the way of getting safely, 
through the whims of a drunken gang that I could 
whistle away the lives of? And me bound, too, to a 
born devil that only wants the will, and has the power 
to, to" 

Panting for breath, the old man stammered for a 
word ; and in that instant checked the torrent of his 
wrath, and changed his whole demeanor. A moment 
before, his clenched hands had grasped the air ; his 
eyes had dilated ; and his face grown livid with pas- 
sion ; but now, he shrunk into a chair, and, cowering 
together, trembled with the apprehension of having 
himself disclosed some hidden villany. After a short si- 
lence, he ventured to look round at his companion. He 
appeared somewhat reassured, on beholding her in the 
same listless attitude from which he had first roused her. 

" Nancy, dear ! " croaked the Jew, in his usual voice. 
" Did you mind me, dear ? " 

" Don't worry me now, Fagin ! " replied the girl, rais- 
ing her head languidly. " If Bill has not done it this 
time, he will another. He has done many a good job 
for you, and will do many more when he can ; and when 
he can't, he won't ; so no more about that." 


" Regarding this boy, my dear ? " said the Jew, rub- 
bing the pahns of his hands nervously together. 

" The boy must take his chance with the rest," inter- 
rupted Nancy, hastily ; " and I say again, I hope he is 
dead, and out of harm's way, and out of yours, — that 
is, if Bill comes to no harm. And if Toby got clear 
off, he's pretty sure to be safe ; for he's worth two of 
him any time." 

" And about what I was saying, my dear ? " observed 
the Jew, keeping his glistening eye steadily upon her. 

" You must say it all over again, if it's anything you 
want me to do," rejoined Nancy ; " and if it is, you had 
better wait till to-morrow. You put me up for a minute ; 
but now I'm stupid again." 

Fagin put several other questions : all with the same 
drift of ascertaining whether the girl had profited by his 
unguarded hints ; but, she answered them so readily, and 
was withal so utterly unmoved by his searching looks, 
that his original impression of her being more than a 
trifle in liquor, was confirmed. Nancy, indeed, was not 
exempt from a failing which was very common among 
the Jew's female pupils ; and in which, in their tenderer 
years, they were rather encouraged than checked. Her 
disordered appearance, and a wholesale perfume of 
Geneva which pervaded the apartment, afforded strong 
confirmatory evidence of the justice of the Jew's supposi- 
tion ; and when, after indulging in the temporary display 
of violence above described, she subsided, first into dul- 
ness, and afterwards into a compound of feelings : under 
the influence of which, she shed tears one minute, and 
in the next gave utterance to various exclamations of 
" Never say die ! " and divers calculations as to what 
might be the amount of the odds so long as a lady or 

VOL. I. 19 


gentleman was happy, Mr. Fagin, who had had con- 
siderable experience of such matters in his time, saw, 
with great satisfaction, that she was very far gone in- 

Having eased his mind by this discovery ; and having 
accomplished his twofold object of imparting to the girl 
what he had that night heard, and of ascertaining, with 
his own eyes, that Sikes had not returned, Mr. Fagin 
again turned his face homeward ; leaving his young 
friend asleep, with her head upon the table. 

It was within an hour of midnight. The weather 
being dark, and piercing cold, he had no great tempta- 
tion to loiter. The sharp wind that scoured the streets, 
seemed to have cleared them of passengers, as of dust 
and mud, for few people were abroad, and they were to 
all appearance hastening ffist home. It blew from the 
right quarter for the Jew, however, and straight before 
it he went : trembling, and shivering, as every fresh gust 
drove him rudely on his way. 

He had reached the corner of his own street, and was 
already fumbling in his pocket for the door-key, when a 
dark figure emerged from a projecting entrance which 
lay in deep shadow, and, crossing the road, glided up to 
him unperceived. 

" Fagin ! " whispered a voice close to his ear. 

" Ah ! " said the Jew, turning quickly round, " is 
that " 

" Yes ! " interrupted the stranger. " I have been 
lingering here these two hours. Where the devil have 
you been ? " 

" On your business, my dear," replied the Jew, glanc- 
ing uneasily at his companion, and slackening his pace 
as he spoke. " On your business all night." 


" Oh, of course ! " said the stranger, with a sneer. 
" Well ; and what's come of it ? " 

" Nothing good," said the Jew. 

"Nothing bad, I hope?" said the stranger, stopping 
short, and turning a startled look on his companion. 

The Jew shook his head, and was about to reply, 
when the stranger, interrupting him, motioned to the 
house, before which they had by this time arrived : re- 
marking, that he had better say what he had got to say, 
under cover : for his blood was chilled with standing about 
so long, and the wind blew through him. 

Fagin looked as if he could have willingly excused 
himself from taking home a visitor at that unseasonable 
hour ; and, indeed, muttered something about having 
no fire ; but his companion repeating his request in a 
peremptory manner, he unlocked the door, and requested 
him to close it softly, while he got a hght. 

" It's as dark as the grave," said the man, groping for- 
ward a few steps. " Make haste ! " 

" Shut the door," whispered Fagin from the end of the 
passage. As he spoke, it closed with a loud noise. 

" That wasn't my doing," said the other man, feeling 
his way. " The wind blew it to, or it shut of its own 
accord : one or the other. Look sharp with the light, or 
I shall knock my brains out against something in this 
confounded hole." 

Fagin stealthily descended the kitchen-stairs. After 
a short absence, he returned with a lighted candle, and 
the intelligence that Toby Crackit was asleep in the back 
room below, and the boys in the front one. Beckoning 
the man to follow him, he led the way up-stairs. 

" We can say the few words we've got to say in here, 
my dear," said the Jew, throwing open a door on the 


fii'st floor ; " and as there are holes in the shutters, and 
we never show Hghts to our neighbors, we'll set the can- 
dle on the stairs. There ! " 

With these words, the Jew, stooping down, placed the 
candle on an upper flight of stairs, exactly opposite to 
the room-door. This done, he led the way into the 
apartment ; which was destitute of all movables save a 
broken arm-chair, and an old couch or sofa without cov- 
ering, which stood behind the door. Upon this piece of 
furniture, the stranger sat himself with the air of a weary 
man ; and the Jew, drawing up the arm-chair opposite, 
they sat face to face. It was not quite dark, for the 
door was partially open, and the candle outside threw a 
feeble reflection on the opposite wall. 

They conversed for some time in whispers. Though 
nothing of the conversation was distinguishable beyond 
a few disjointed words here and there, a hstener might 
easily have perceived that Fagin appeared to be defend- 
ing himself against some remarks of the stranger ; and 
that the latter was in a state of considerable irritation. 
They might have been talking, thus, for a quarter of an 
hour or more, when Monks — by which name the Jew 
had designated the strange man several times in the 
course of the colloquy — said, raising his voice a little, 

" I tell you again it was badly planned. Why not 
have kept him here among the rest, and made a sneak- 
ing, snivelling pickpocket of him at once ? " 

" Only hear him ! " exclaimed the Jew, shrugging his 

" Why, do you mean to say you couldn't have done 
it, if you had chosen?" demanded Monks, sternly. 
" Haven't you done it, with other boys, scores of times ? 
If you had had patience for a twelvemonth, at most, 


couldn't you have got him convicted, and sent safely out 
of the kingdom ; perhaps for life ? " 

" Whose turn would that have served, my dear ? " in- 
quired the Jew, humbly. 

" Mine," rephed Monks. 

" But not mine," said the Jew, submissively. " He 
might have become of use to me. When there are two 
parties to a bargain it is only reasonable that the inter- 
ests of both should be consulted ; is it, my good friend ? " 

" What then ? " demanded Monks. 

" I saw it was not easy to train him to the business," 
replied the Jew ; " he was not like other boys in the 
same circumstances." 

" Curse him, no ! " muttered the man, "or he would 
have been a thief, long ago." 

" I had no hold upon him to make him worse," pur- 
sued the Jew, anxiously watching the countenance of his 
companion. " His hand was not in. I had nothing to 
frighten him with ; which we always must have in the 
beginning, or we labor in vain. What could I do? 
Send him out with the Dodger and Charley ? We had 
enough of that, at first, my dear ; I trembled for us all." 

" That was not my doing," observed Monks. 

" No, no, my dear ! " renewed the Jew. " And I don't 
quarrel with it now ; because, if it had never happened, 
you might never have clapped eyes upon the boy to 
notice him, and so led to the discovery that it was him 
you were looking for. Well ! I got him back for you 
by means of the girl ; and then she begins to favor him." 

" Throttle the girl ! " said Monks, impatiently. 

" Why, we can't afford to do that just now, my dear," 
replied the Jew, smiling; "and, besides, that sort of 
thing is not in our way ; or, one of these days, I might 


be glad to have it done. I know what these girls are, 
Monks, well. As soon as the boy begins to harden, 
she'll care no more for him, than for a block of wood. 
You want him made a thief. If he is alive, I can make 
him one from this time; and if — if" — said the Jew, 
drawing nearer to the other, — " it's not likely, mind, — 
but if the worst comes to the worst, and he is dead " — 

" It's no fault of mine if he is ! " interposed the other 
man, with a look of terror, and clasping the Jew's arm 
with trembling hands. " Mind that, Fagin ! I had no 
hand in it. Anything but his death, I told you from the 
first. I won't shed blood ; it's always found out, and 
haunts a man besides. If they shot him dead, I was not 
the cause ; do you hear me ? Fire this infernal den ! 
What's that?" 

" What ! " cried the Jew, grasping the coward round 
the body, with both arms, as he sprung to his feet. 
« Where ? " 

" Yonder ! " replied the man, glaring at the opposite 
wall. " The shadow ! I saw the shadow of a woman, 
in a cloak and bonnet, pass along the wainscot like a 

The Jew released his hold ; and they rushed tumultu- 
ously from the room. The candle wasted by the draught, 
was standing where it had been placed. It showed them, 
only the empty staircase, and their own white faces. 
They listened intently ; but a profound silence reigned 
throughout the house. 

" It's your fancy," said the Jew, taking up the light, 
and turning to his companion. 

" I'll swear I saw it ! " replied Monks, trembling. " It 
was bending forward when I saw it first ; and when I 
spoke, it darted away." 


The Jew glanced, contemptuously, at the pale face of 
his associate ; and, telling him he could follow, if he 
pleased, ascended the stairs. They looked into all the 
rooms ; they were cold, bare, and empty. They de- 
scended into the passage, and thence into the cellars 
below. The green damp hung upon the low walls ; and 
the tracks of the snail and slug glistened in the light of 
the candle ; but all was still as death. 

" What do you think now ? " said the Jew, when they 
had regained the passage. "Besides ourselves, there's not 
a creature in the house except Toby and the boys ; and 
they're safe enough. See here ! " 

As a proof of the fact, the Jew drew forth two keys 
from his pocket ; and explained, that when he first went 
down-stairs, he had locked them in, to prevent any in- 
trusion on the conference. 

This accumulated testimony effectually staggered Mr. 
Monks. His protestations had gradually become less 
and less vehement as they proceeded in their search 
without making any discovery ; and, now, he gave vent 
to several very grim laughs, and confessed it could only 
have been his excited imagination. He declined any re- 
newal of the conversation, however, for that night : sud- 
denly remembering that it was past one o'clock. And 
so the amiable couple parted. 




As it would be by no means seemly in a humble au- 
thor to keep so mighty a personage as a beadle waiting, 
with his back to the fire, and the skirts of his coat gath- 
ered up under his arms, until such time as it might suit 
his pleasure to reheve him ; and as it would still less be- 
come his station, or his gallantry, to involve in the same 
neglect a lady on whom that beadle had looked with an 
eye of tenderness and affection, and in whose ear he had 
whispered sweet words, which, coming from such a quar- 
ter, might well thrill the bosom of maid or matron of 
whatsoever degree ; the historian whose pen traces these 
words — trusting that he knows his place, and that he 
entertains a becoming reverence for those upon earth to 
whom high and important authority is delegated — has- 
tens to pay them that respect which their position de- 
mands, and to treat them with all that duteous ceremony 
which their exalted rank, and (by consequence) great 
virtues, imperatively claim at his hands. Towards this 
end, indeed, he had purposed to introduce, in this place, 
a dissertation touching the divine right of beadles, and 
elucidative of the position, that a beadle can do no 


wrong : which could not fail to have been both pleas- 
urable and profitable to the right-minded reader, but, 
which he is unfortunately compelled, by want of time and 
space, to postpone to some more convenient and fitting 
opportunity ; on the arrival of which, he will be pre- 
pared to show, that a beadle properly constituted : that 
is to say, a parochial beadle, attached to a parochial work- 
house, and attending in his official capacity the parochial 
church : is, in right and virtue of his office, possessed of 
all the excellences and best qualities of humanity ; and 
that to none of those excellences, can mere companies' 
beadles, or court-of-law beadles, or even chapel-of-ease 
beadles (save the last, and they in a very lowly and in- 
ferior degree), lay the remotest sustainable claim. 

Mr. Bumble had re-counted the tea-spoons, re-weighed 
the sugar-tongs, made a closer inspection of the milk-pot, 
and ascertained to a nicety the exact condition of the 
furniture, doAvn to the very horse-hair seats of the chairs ; 
and had repeated each process full half-a-dozen times ; 
before he began to think that it was time for Mrs. Cor- 
ney to return. Thinking begets thinking ; and, as there 
were no sounds of Mrs. Corney's approach, it occurred to 
Mr. Bumble that it would be an innocent and virtuous 
way of spending the time, if he were further to allay his 
curiosity by a cursory glance at the interior of Mrs. Cor- 
ney's chest of drawers. 

Having listened at the key-hole, to assure himself that 
nobody was approaching the chamber, Mr. Bumble, be- 
ginning at the bottom, proceeded to make himself ac- 
quainted with the contents of the three long drawers : 
which, being filled with various garments of good fashion 
and texture, carefully preserved between two layers of 
old newspapers, speckled with dried lavender : seemed to 


yield him exceeding satisfaction. Arriving, in course of 
time, at the right-hand corner drawer (in which was the 
key), and beholding therein a small padlocked box, which, 
being shaken, gave forth a pleasant sound, as of the 
chinking of coin, Mr. Bumble returned with a stately 
walk to the fireplace; and, resuming his old attitude, 
said, with a grave and determined air, " I'll do it ! " He 
followed up this remarkable declaration, by shaking his 
head in a waggish manner for ten minutes, as though he 
were remonstrating with himself for being such a pleas- 
ant dog ; and then, he took a view of his legs in profile 
with much seeming pleasure and interest. 

He was still placidly engaged in this latter survey, 
when Mrs. Corney, hurrying into the room, threw her- 
self in a breathless state, on a chair by the fireside ; and 
covering her eyes with one hand, placed the other over 
her heart, and gasped for breath. 

" Mrs. Corney," said Mr. Bumble, stooping over the 
matron, " what is this, ma'am ? has anything happened, 
ma'am ? Pray answer me ; I'm on — on " — Mr. Bum- 
ble, in his alarm, could not immediately think of the 
word " tenter-hooks," so he said, " broken bottles." 

" Oh, Mr. Bumble ! " cried the lady, " I have been so 
dreadfully put out ! " 

" Put out, ma'am ! " exclaimed Mr. Bumble ; " who has 
dared to — ? I know ! " said Mr. Bumble, checking him- 
self, with native majesty, " this is them wicious paupers!" 

" It's dreadful to think of ! " said the lady, shuddering. 

" Then don't think of it, ma'am," rejoined Mr. Bumble. 

" I can't help it," whimpered the lady. 

"Then take something, ma'am," said Mr. Bumble, 
soothingly. "A little of the wine?" 

"Not for the world!" replied Mrs. Corney. "I 


couldn't, — oil ! The top shelf in the right-hand corner 
— oh ! " Uttering these words, the good lady pointed, 
distractedly, to the cupboard, and underwent a convul- 
sion from internal spasms. Mr. Bumble rushed to the 
closet ; and, snatching a pint green-glass bottle from the 
shelf thus incoherently indicated, filled a teacup with its 
contents, and held it to the lady's lips. 

" I'm better now," said Mrs. Corney, falling back, after 
drinking half of it. 

Mr. Bumble raised his eyes piously to the ceiling in 
thankfulness ; and, bringing them down again to the 
brim of the cup, lifted it to his nose. 

" Peppermint," exclaimed Mrs. Corney, in a faint 
voice, smiling gently on the beadle as she spoke. " Try 
it ! There's a little — a little something else in it." 

Mr. Bumble tasted the medicine with a doubtful look ; 
smacked his lips ; took another taste ; and put the cup 
down empty. 

" It's very comforting," said Mrs. Corney. 

" Very much so indeed, ma'am," said the beadle. As 
he spoke, he drew a chair beside the matron, and tenderly 
inquired what had happened to distress her. 

"Nothing," replied Mrs. Corney. "I am a foolish, 
excitable, weak creetur." 

" Not weak, ma'am," retorted Mr. Bumble, drawing his 
chair a little closer. " Are you a weak creetur, Mrs. 

" We are all weak creeturs," said Mrs. Corney, laying 
down a general principle. 

" So we are," said the beadle. 

Nothing was said, on either side, for a minute or two 
afterwards. By the expiration of that time, Mr. Bum- 
ble had illustrated the position by removing his left arm 


from the "back of Mrs. Cornej's chair, where it had 
previously rested, to Mrs. Corney's apron-string, round 
which it gradually became entwined. 

" We are all weak creeturs," said Mr. Bumble. 

Mrs. Corney sighed. 

" Don't sigh, Mrs. Corney," said Mr. Bumble. 

" I can't help it," said Mrs. Corney. And she sighed 

" This is a very comfortable room, ma'am," said Mr. 
Bumble, looking round. " Another room and this, ma'am, 
would be a complete thing." 

" It would be too much for one," murmured the lady. 

" But not for two, ma'am," rejoined Mr. Bumble, in 
soft accents. " Eh, Mrs. Corney ? " 

Mrs. Corney drooped her head, when the beadle said 
this ; the beadle drooped his, to get a view of Mrs. Cor- 
ney's face. Mrs. Corney, with great propriety, turned 
her head away, and released her hand to get at her 
pocket-handkerchief; but insensibly replaced it in that 
of Mr. Bumble. 

" The board allow you coals, don't they, Mrs. Corney?" 
inquired the beadle, affectionately pressing her hand. 

" And candles," replied Mrs. Corney, slightly return- 
ing the pressure. 

" Coals, candles, and house-rent free," said Mr. Bum- 
ble. " Oh, Mrs. Corney, Avhat a Angel you are ! " 

The lady was not proof against this burst of feeling. 
She sunk into Mr. Bumble's arms ; and that gentleman, 
in his agitation, imprinted a passionate kiss upon her 
chaste nose. 

" Such porochial perfection ! " exclaimed Mr. Bumble, 
rapturously. " You know that Mr. Slout is worse to- 
night, my fascinator ? " 


" Yes," replied Mrs. Corney, bashfully. 

" He can't live a week, the doctor says," pursued Mr. 
Bumble. " He is the master of this establishment ; his 
death will cause a wacancy ; that wacancy must be filled 
up. Oh, Mrs. Corney, what a prospect this opens ! What 
a opportunity for a joining of hearts and house-keepings !" 

Mrs. Corney sobbed. 

" The little word ? " said Mr. Bumble, bending over 
the bashful beauty. " The one little, little, little word, 
my blessed Corney ? " 

" Ye — ye — yes ! " sighed out the matron. 

" One more," pursued the beadle ; " compose your dar- 
ling feelings for only one more. When is it to come off ? " 

Mrs. Corney twice essayed to speak ; and twice failed. 
At length, summoning up courage, she threw her arms 
round Mr. Bumble's neck, and said, it might be as soon 
as ever he pleased, and that he was " a irresistible duck." 

Matters being thus amicably and satisfactorily arranged, 
the contract was solemnly ratified in another teacupful of 
the peppermint mixture ; which was rendered the more 
necessary, by the flutter and agitation of the lady's spirits. 
While it was being disposed of, she acquainted Mr. Bum- 
ble with the old woman's decease. 

" Very good," said that gentleman, sipping his pepper- 
mint. " I'll call at Sowerberry's as I go home, and tell 
him to send to-morrow morning. Was it that as fright- 
ened you, love ? " 

" It wasn't anything particular, dear," said the lady, 

" It must have been something, love," urged Mr. Bum- 
ble. " Won't you tell your own B. ? " 

" Not now," rejoined the lady ; " one of these days. 
After we're married, dear." 


" After we're married ! " exclaimed Mr. Bumble. " It 
wasn't any impudence from any of them male paupers 

" No, no, love ! " interposed tlie lady, hastily. 

" If I thought it was," continued Mr. Bumble ; " if I 
thought as any one of 'em had dared to lift his wulgar 
eyes to that lovely countenance " 

" They wouldn't have dared to do it, love," responded 
the lady. 

"■ They had better not ! " said Mr. Bumble, clenching 
his fist. " Let me see any man, porochial, or extra-poro- 
chial, as would presume to do it ; and I can tell him that 
he wouldn't do it a second time ! " 

Unembellished by any violence of gesticulation, this 
might have seemed no very high compliment to the 
lady's charms ; but, as Mr. Bumble accompanied the 
threat with many warlike gestures, she was much 
touched with this proof of his devotion, and protested, 
with great admiration, that he was indeed a dove. 

The dove then turned up his coat-collar, and put ou 
his cocked-hat ; and, having exchanged a long and affec- 
tionate embrace with his future partner, once again 
braved the cold wind of the night : merely pausing, for 
a few minutes, in the male paupers' ward, to abuse them 
a little, with the view of satisfying himself that he could 
fill the oJEfice of workhouse-master with needful acerbity. 
Assured of his qualifications, Mr. Bumble left the build- 
ing with a light heart, and bright visions of his future 
promotion : which served to occupy his mind until he 
reached the shop of the undertaker. 

Now, Mr. and Mrs. Sowerberry having gone out to 
tea and supper : and Noah Claypole not being at any 
time disposed to take upon himself a greater amount of 


physical exertion than is necessary to a convenient per- 
formance of the two functions of eating and drinking, 
the shop was not closed, although it was past the usual 
hour of shutting up. Mr. Bumble tapped with his cane 
on the counter several times ; but, attracting no atten- 
tion, and beholding a light shining through the glass-win- 
dow of the little parlor at the back of the shop, he made 
bold to peep in and see what was going forward ; and, 
when he saw what ivas going forward, he w^as not a little 

The cloth was laid for supper ; the table was covered 
with bread and butter, plates, and glasses : a porter-pot, 
and a wine-bottle. At the upper end of the table, IVIr. 
Noah Claypole lolled negligently in an easy-chair, with 
his legs thrown over one of the arms : an open clasp- 
knife in one hand, and a mass of buttered bread in the 
other. Close beside him stood Charlotte, opening oys- 
ters from a barrel : which Mr. Claypole condescended to 
swallow, with remarkable avidity. A more than ordi- 
nary redness in the region of the young gentleman's 
nose, and a kind of fixed wink in his right eye, denoted 
that he was in a slight degree intoxicated ; these symp- 
toms were confirmed by the intense relish with which he 
took his oysters, for which nothing but a strong apprecia- 
tion of their cooling properties, in cases of internal fever, 
could have sufiiciently accounted. 

" Here's a delicious fat one, Noah, dear ! " said Char- 
lotte ; " try him, do ; only this one." 

" What a delicious thing is a oyster ! " remarked Mr. 
Claypole, after he had swallowed it. " What a pity it 
is, a number of 'era should ever make you feel uncom- 
fortable ; isn't it, Charlotte ? " 

" It's quite a cruelty," said Charlotte. 


" So it is," acquiesced Mr. Claypole. " A'n't yer fond 
of oysters ? " 

" Not overmuch," replied Charlotte. " I like to see 
you eat 'em, Noah dear, better than eating 'em myself." 

" Lor' ! " said Noah, reflectively ; " how queer ! " 

" Have another," said Charlotte. " Here's one with 
such a beautiful, delicate beard ! " 

" I can't manage any more," said Noah. " I'm very 
sorry. Come here, Charlotte, and I'll kiss yer." 

" What ! " said Mr. Bumble, bursting into the room. 
" Say that again, sir." 

Charlotte uttered a scream, and hid her face in her 
apron. Mr. Claypole, without making any further change 
in his position than suffering his legs to reach the ground, 
gazed at the beadle in drunken terror. 

" Say it again, you wile, owdacious fellow ! " said Mr. 
Bumble. " How dare you mention such a thing, sir ? 
And how dare you encourage him, you insolent minx ? 
Kiss her ! " exclaimed Mr. Bumble, in strong indigna- 
tion. " Faugh ! " 

" I didn't mean to do it ! " said Noah, blubbering. 
" She's always a-kissing of me, whether I like it, or not." 

" Oh, Noah," cried Charlotte, reproachfully. 

" Yer are ; yer know yer are ! " retorted Noah. " She's 
always a-doing of it, Mr. Bumble, sir; she chucks me 
under the chin, please, sir ; and makes all manner of 
love ! " 

" Silence ! " cried Mr. Bumble, sternly. " Take your- 
self down-stairs, ma'am. Noah, you shut up the shop ; 
say another word till your master comes home, at your 
peril ; and, when he does come home, tell him that Mr. 
Bumble said he was to send a old woman's shell after 
breakfast to-morrow morning. Do you hear, sir ? Kiss- 


ing ! " cried Mr. Bumble, holding up his hands. " The 
sin and wickedness of the lower orders in this porochial 
district is frightful ! If parliament don't take their abom- 
inable courses under consideration, this country's ruined, 
and the character of the peasantry gone forever ! " With 
these words, the beadle strode, with a lofty and gloomy 
air, from the undertaker's premises. 

And now that we have accompanied him so far on his 
road home, and have made all necessary preparations for 
the old woman's funeral, let us set on foot a few inquiries 
after young Oliver Twist, and ascertain whether he be 
still lying in the ditch where Toby Crackit left him. 





" Wolves tear your throats ! " muttered Sikes, grind- 
ing his teeth. "I wish I was among some of you ; you'd 
howl the hoarser for it." 

As Sikes growled forth this imprecation, with the most 
desperate ferocity that his desperate nature was capable 
of, he rested the body of the wounded boy across his 
bended knee ; and turned his head, for an instant, to 
look back at his pursuers. 

There was little to be made out, in the mist and 
darkness ; but the loud shouting of men vibrated through 
the air : and the barking of the neighboring dogs, roused 
by the sound of the alarm-bell, resounded in every direc- 

"Stop, you white-livered hound!" cried the robber, 
shouting after Toby Crackit, who, making the best use 
of his long legs, was already ahead. " Stop ! " 

The repetition of the word, brought Toby to a dead 
stand-still. For he was not quite satisfied that he was 
beyond the range of pistol-shot ; and Sikes was in no 
mood to be played with. 

" Bear a hand with the boy," cried Sikes, beckoning 
furiously to his confederate. " Come back ! " 

Toby made a show of returning ; but ventured, in a 


low voice, broken for want of breath, to intimate consid- 
erable reluctance as he came slowly along. 

" Quicker ! " cried Sikes^ laying the boy in a dry ditch 
at his feet, and drawing a pistol from his pocket. " Don't 
play booty with me." 

At this moment the noise grew louder. Sikes, again 
looking round, could discern that the men who had given 
chase were already climbing the gate of the field in which 
he stood ; and that a couple of dogs were some paces in 
advance of them. 

" It's all up. Bill ! " cried Toby ; « drop the kid, and 
show 'em your heels." With this parting advice, Mr. 
Crackit : preferring the chance of being shot by his 
friend, to the certainty of being taken by his enemies : 
fairly turned tail, and darted off at full speed. Sikes 
clenched his teeth ; took one look round ; threw over 
the prostrate form of Oliver, the cape in which he had 
been hurriedly muffled ; ran along the front of the 
hedge, as if to distract the attention of those behind, 
from the spot where the boy lay ; paused, for a second, 
before another hedge which met it at right angles ; and 
whirling his pistol high into the air, cleared it at a 
bound, and was gone. 

" Ho, ho, there ! " cried a tremulous voice in the 
rear. " Pincher ! Neptune ! Come here, come here ! " 

The dogs, who, in common with their masters, seemed 
to have no particular relish for the sport in which they 
were engaged, readily answered to the command. Three 
men, who had by this time advanced some distance into 
the field, stopped to take counsel together. 

" My advice, or, leastways, I should say, my orders, 
is," said the fattest man of the party, " that we 'medi- 
ately go home again." 


" I am agreeable to anything which is agreeable to 
Mr. Giles," said a shorter man ; who was by no means 
of a slim figure, and who was very pale in the face, and 
very polite : as frightened men frequently are. 

" I shouldn't wish to appear ill-mannered, gentlemen," 
said the third, who had called the dogs back, " Mr. Giles 
ought to know." 

" Certainly," replied the shorter man ; " and whatever 
Mr. Giles says, it isn't our place to contradict him. No, 
no, I know my sitiwation ! Thank my stars, I know my 
sitiwation." To tell the truth, the little man did seem to 
know his situation, and to know perfectly well that it was 
by no means a desirable one ; for his teeth chattered in 
his head as he spoke. 

" You are afraid, Brittles," said Mr. Giles. 

" I a'n't," said Brittles. 

" You are," said Giles. 

'' You're a falsehood, Mr. Giles," said Brittles. 

'' You're a lie, Brittles," said Mr. Giles. 

Now, these four retorts arose from Mr. Giles's taunt ; 
and Mr. Giles's taunt had arisen from his indignation at 
having the responsibility of going home again, imposed 
upon himself under cover of a compliment. The third 
man brought the dispute to a close, most philosophically. 

" I'll tell you what it is, gentlemen," said he, " we're all 

" Speak for yourself, sir," said Mr. Giles, who was the 
palest of the party. 

" So I do," replied the man. " It's natural and proper 
to be afraid, under such circumstances, /am." 

" So am I," said Brittles ; " only there's no call to tell 
a man he is, so bounceably." 

These frank admissions softened Mr. Giles, who at 


once owned that he was afraid ; upon which, they all 
three faced ai)out, and ran back again with the complet- 
est unanimity, until Mr. Giles (who had the shortest 
wind of the party, and was encumbered with a pitch- 
fork) most handsomely insisted on stopping, to make an 
apology for his hastiness of speech. 

" But it's wonderful," said Mr. Giles, when he had 
explained, " what a man will do, when his blood is up. 
I should have committed murder — I know I should — 
if we'd caught one of them rascals." 

As the other two were impressed with a similar pre- 
sentiment; and as their blood, like his, had all gone down 
again ; some speculation ensued upon the cause of this 
sudden change in their temperament. 

" I know what it was," said Mr. Giles ; " it was the 

" I shouldn't wonder if it was," exclaimed Brittles, 
catching at the idea. 

" You may depend upon it," said Giles, " that that gate 
stopped the flow of the excitement. I felt all mine sud- 
denly going away, as I was climbing over it." 

By a remarkable coincidence, the other two had been 
visited with the same unpleasant sensation at that pre- 
cise moment. It was quite obvious, therefore, that it 
was the gate ; especially as there was no doubt regard- 
ing the time at which the change had taken place, be- 
cause all three remembered that they had come in sight 
of the robbers at the instant of its occurrence. 

This dialogue was held between the two men who had 
surprised the burglars, and a travelling tinker, who had 
been sleeping in an out-house, and who had been roused, 
together with his two mongrel curs, to join in the pursuit. 
ISIr. Giles acted in the double capacity of butler and 


steward to the old ladj of the mansion ; and Brittles 
was a lad of all-work : who, having entered her service 
a mere child, was treated as a promising young boy 
still, though he was something past thirty. 

Encouraging each other with such converse as this ; 
but, keeping very close together, notwithstanding, and 
looking apprehensively round, whenever a fresh gust 
rattled through the boughs, the three men hurried back 
to a tree, behind which they had left their lantern, lest 
its light should inform the thieves in what direction to 
fire. Catching up the light, they made the best of their 
way home, at a good round trot ; and long after their 
dusky forms had ceased to be discernible, it might have 
been seen twinkling and dancing in the distance, like 
some exhalation of the damp and gloomy atmosphere 
through which it was swiftly borne. 

The air grew colder, as day came slowly on ; and the 
mist rolled along the ground like a dense cloud of smoke. 
The grass was wet ; the pathways, and low places, were 
all mire and water ; and the damp breath of an unwhole- 
some wind went languidly by, with a hollow moaning. 
Still, Oliver lay motionless and insensible on the spot 
where Sikes had left him. 

Morning drew on apace. The air became more sharp 
and piercing, as its first dull hue : the death of night, 
rather than the birth of day : glimmered faintly in the 
sky. The objects which had looked dim and terrible 
in the darkness, grew more and more defined, and grad- 
ually resolved into their familiar shapes. The rain came 
down, thick and fast, and pattered, noisily, among the 
leafless bushes. But, Oliver felt it not, as it beat against 
him ; for he still lay stretched, helpless and unconscious, 
on his bed of clay. 


At length, a low cry of pain broke the stillness that 
prevailed ; and uttering it, the boy awoke. His left 
arm, rudely bandaged in a shawl, hung heavy and use- 
less at his side : and the bandage was saturated with 
blood. He was so weak, that he could scarcely raise 
himself into a sitting posture ; when he had done so, he 
looked feebly round for help, and groaned with pain. 
Trembling in every joint from cold and exhaustion, he 
made an effort to stand upright; but, shuddering from 
head to foot, fell prostrate on the ground. 

After a short return of the stupor in which he had 
been so long plunged, Oliver : urged by a creeping sick- 
ness at his heart, which seemed to warn him that if he 
lay there, he must surely die : got upon his feet, and 
essayed to walk. His head was dizzy, and he staggered 
to and fro like a drunken man. But he kept up, never- 
theless, and, with his head drooping languidly on his 
breast, went stumbling onward, he knew not whither. 

And now, hosts of bewildering and confused ideas 
came crowding on his mind. He seemed to be still 
walking between Sikes and Crackit, who were angrily 
disputing : for the very words they said, sounded in his 
ears ; and when he caught his own attention, as it were, 
by making some violent effort to save himself from fall- 
ing, he found that he was talking to them. Then he 
was alone with Sikes, plodding on, as they had done, the 
previous day ; and as shadowy people passed them, he 
felt the robber's grasp upon his wrist. Suddenly, he 
started back at the report of fire-arms ; and there rose 
into the air, loud cries and shouts ; hghts gleamed before 
bis eyes ; and all was noise and tumult, as some unseen 
hand bore him hurriedly away. Through all these 
rapid visions, there ran an undefined, uneasy conscious- 


ness of pain, which wearied and tormented him, in- 

Thus he staggered on, creeping, almost mechanically, 
between the bars of gates, or through hedge-gaps as they 
came in his way, until he reached a road. Here the 
rain began to fall, so heavily, that it roused him. 

He looked about, and saw that at no great distance 
there was a house, which perhaps he could reach. Pity- 
ing his condition, they might have compassion on him ; 
and if they did not, it would be better, he thought, to die 
near human beings, than in the lonely, open fields. He 
summoned up all his strength for one last trial ; and 
bent his faltering steps towards it. 

As he drew nearer to this house, a feeling came over 
him that he had seen it before. He remembered nothing 
of its details ; but the shape and aspect of the building 
seemed familiar to him. 

That garden wall ! On the grass inside he had fallen 
on his knees last night, and prayed the two men's mercy. 
It was the very same house they had attempted to rob. 

Oliver felt such fear come over him when he recog- 
nized the place, that, for the instant, he forgot the agony 
of his wound, and thought only of flight. Fhght ! He 
could scarcely stand; and if he were in full possession 
of all the best powers of his slight and youthful frame, 
whither could he fly ? He pushed against the garden- 
gate; it was unlocked, and swung open on its hinges. 
He tottered across the lawn ; chmbed the steps ; knocked 
faintly at the door ; and, his whole strength failing him, 
sunk down against one of the pillars of the little portico. 

It happened that about this time, Mr. Giles, Brittles, 
and the tinker, were recruiting themselves, after the 
fatigues and terrors of the night, with tea and sundries, 


in the kitchen. Not that it was Mr. Giles's habit to 
admit to too great famiharity the humbler servants : tow- 
ards whom it was rather his wont to deport himself with 
a lofty affability, which, while it gratified, could not fail 
to remind them of his superior position in society. But 
death, fires, and burglary, make all men equals ; so Mr. 
Giles sat with his legs stretched out before the kitchen 
fender, leaning his left arm on the table, while, with his 
right, he illustrated a circumstantial and minute account 
of the robbery, to which his hearers (but especially the 
cook and housemaid, who were of the party) listened 
with breathless interest. 

"It was about half-past two," said Mr. Giles, "or I 
wouldn't swear that it mightn't have been a little nearer 
three, when I woke up, and, turning round in my bed, 
as it might be so, (here Mr. Giles turned round in his 
chair, and pulled the comer of the table-cloth over him 
to imitate bedclothes,) I fancied I heerd a noise." 

At this point of the narrative the cook turned pale, and 
asked the housemaid to shut the door, who asked Brit- 
tles, who asked the tinker, who pretended not to hear. 

— " Heerd a noise," continued Mr. Giles. " I says, at 
first, ' This is illusion ; ' and was composing myself off to 
sleep, when I heerd the noise again, distinct." 

" What sort of a noise ? " asked the cook. 

"A kind of a busting noise," replied Mr. Giles, looking 
round him. 

" More like the noise of powdering an iron bar on a 
nutmeg-grater," suggested Brittles. 

" It was, when you heerd it, sir," rejoined Mr. Giles ; 
" but, at this time, it had a busting sound. I turned 
down the clothes ; " continued Giles, rolling back the 
table-cloth, " sat up in bed ; and listened." 


The cook and housemaid simultaneously ejaculated 
" Lor' ! " and drew their chairs closer together. 

" I heerd it now, quite apparent," resumed Mr. Giles. 
" ' Somebody,' I says, ' is forcing of a door, or window ; 
what's to be done ? I'll call up that poor lad, Brittles, 
and save him from being murdered in his bed ; or his 
throat,' I says, ' may be cut from his right ear to his left, 
without his ever knowing it.' " 

Here, all eyes were turned upon Brittles, who fixed 
his upon the speaker, and stared at him, with his mouth 
wide open, and his face expressive of the most unmiti- 
gated horror. 

" I tossed off the clothes," said Giles, throwing away 
the table-cloth, and looking very hard at the cook 
and housemaid, " got softly out of bed ; drew on a pair 
of" — 

" Ladies present, Mr. Giles," murmured the tinker. 

— "Of shoes, sir," said Giles, turning upon him, and 
laying great emphasis on the word ; " seized the loaded 
pistol that always goes up-stairs with the plate-basket ; 
and walked on tiptoes to his room. 'Brittles,' I says, 
when I had woke him, ' don't be frightened ! ' " 

" So you did," observed Brittles, in a low voice. 

" ' We're dead men, I think, Brittles,' I says," con- 
tinued Giles ; " ' but don't be frightened.' " 

" Was he frightened ? " asked the cook. 

"Not a bit of it," replied Mr. Giles. "He was as 
firm — ah ! pretty near as firm as I was." 

" I should have died at once, I'm sure, if it had been 
me," observed the housemaid. 

" You're a woman," retorted Brittles, plucking up a 

" Brittles is right," said Mr. Giles, nodding his head, 


approvingly ; " from a woman, nothing else was to be 
expected. We, being men, took a dark lantern, that 
was standing on Brittles's hob ; and groped our way 
down-stairs in the pitch dark, — as it might be so." 

Mr. Giles had risen from his seat, and taken two steps 
with his eyes shut, to accompany his description with 
appropriate action, when he started violently, in common 
with the rest of the company, and hurried back to his 
chair. The cook and housemaid screamed. 

" It was a knock," said Mr. Giles, assuming perfect 
serenity. "Open the door, somebody." 

Nobody moved. 

" It seems a strange sort of a thing, a knock coming at 
such a time in the morning," said Mr. Giles, surveying 
the pale faces which surrounded him, and looking very 
blank himself; " but the door must be opened. Do you 
hear, somebody ? " 

Mr. Giles, as he spoke, looked at Brittles; but that 
young man, being naturally modest, probably considered 
himself nobody, and so held that the inquiry could not 
have any application to him ; at all events, he tendered 
no reply. Mr. Giles directed an appealing glance at the 
tinker ; but he had suddenly fallen asleep. The women 
were out of the question. 

" If Brittles would rather open the door, in the pres- 
ence of witnesses," said Mr. Giles, after a short silence, 
" I am ready to make one." 

" So am I," said the tinker, waking up, as suddenly 
as he had fallen asleep. 

Brittles capitulated on these terms ; and the party 
being somewhat reassured by the discovery (made on 
throwing open the shutters) that it was now broad day, 
took their way up-stairs ; with the dogs in front ; and 


the two women, who were afraid to stay below, bringing 
up the rear. By the advice of Mr. Giles, they all 
talked very loud, to warn any evil-disposed person out- 
side, that they were strong in numbers ; and by a mas- 
ter-stroke of policy, originating in the brain of the same 
ingenious gentleman, the dogs' tails were well pinched, 
in the hall, to make them bark savagely. 

These precautions having been taken, Mr. Giles held 
on fast by the tinker's arm (to prevent his running away, 
as he pleasantly said), and gave the word of command 
to open the door. Brittles obeyed ; the group, peeping 
timorously over each other's shoulders, beheld no more 
formidable object than poor little Oliver Twist, speech- 
less and exhausted, who raised his heavy eyes, and 
mutely solicited their compassion. 

" A boy ! " exclaimed Mr. Giles, valiantly pushing the 
tinker into the background. " What's the matter with 
the — eh ? — "Why — Brittles — look here — don't you 

Brittles, who had got behind the door to open it, no 
sooner saw Oliver, than he uttered a loud cry. Mr. 
Giles, seizing the boy by one leg and one arm (fortu- 
nately not the broken limb) lugged him straight into 
the hall, and deposited him at full length on the floor 

" Here he is ! " bawled Giles, calling, in a state of 
great excitement, up the staircase ; " here's one of the 
thieves, ma'am ! Here's a thief, miss ! Wounded, miss ! 
I shot him, miss ; and Brittles held the light." 

" — In a lantern, miss," cried Brittles, applying his 
hand to the side of his mouth, so that his voice might 
travel the better. 

The two women-servants ran up- stairs to carry the 


intelligence that Mr. Giles had captured a robber ; and 
the tinker busied himself in endeavoring to restore 
Oliver, lest he should die before he could be hanged. 
In the midst of all this noise and commotion, there 
was heard a sweet female voice, which quelled it in 
an instant. 

" Giles ! " whispered the voice from the stair-head. 

" I'm here, miss," replied Mr. Giles. " Don't be 
frightened, miss ; I a'n't much injured. He didn't make 
a very desperate resistance, miss ! I was soon too many 
for him." 

" Hush ! " rephed the young lady ; " you frighten my 
aunt, as much as the thieves did. Is the poor creature 
much hurt ? " 

" Wounded desperate, miss," replied Giles, with inde- 
scribable complacency. 

" He looks as if he was a-going, miss," bawled Brittles, 
in the same manner as before. " Wouldn't you like to 
come and look at him, miss, in case he should ? " 

" Hush, pray ; there's a good man ! " rejoined the 
young lady. " Wait quietly one instant, while I speak 
to aunt." 

With a footstep as soft and gentle as the voice, the 
speaker tripped away. She soon returned, with the 
direction that the wounded person was to be carried, 
carefully, up-stairs to Mr. Giles's room ; and that Brit- 
tles was to saddle the pony and betake himself instantly 
to Chertsey ; from which place, he was to despatch, with 
all speed, a constable and doctor. 

" But won't you take one look at him, first, miss ? " 
asked Mr. Giles, with as much pride as if Oliver were 
some bird of rare plumage that he had skilfully brought 
down. " Not one little peep, miss ? " 


" Not now for the world," replied the young ladj. 
" Poor fellow ! Oh ! treat him kindly, Giles, for my 

1 " 

The old servant looked up at the speaker as she turned 
away, with a glance as proud and admiring as if she had 
been his own child. Then, bending over Oliver, he 
helped to carry him up-stairs, with the care and solici- 
tude of a woman.